It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. Courtlaw stood up. “You have dyed your hair and darkened your eyebrows. She began rubbing it with her pocket-handkerchief. It's a long time since we met, eight years and more.
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