Then she looked up the sweep of pine-trees to the towering sunlit cliffs and the high heaven above and then back to his face. ‘Nothing would do for her but to come here,’ grumbled Hilary, wiping his heated brow with a pocket handkerchief dragged from his immaculate white uniform breeches. Peste, where was her handkerchief? She remembered then that it had been lost in the struggle with Gerald. Even the love of a mother does not sway him.
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