“You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. . Personally, however, I doubt if—’ ‘Charvill?’ interrupted Gerald without ceremony, all his senses at once on the alert. “I cannot reason with you,” he said at last wearily. ‘Bête!’ Gerald caught her hand as she pulled it back to deliver another blow. Wood became sensible that he was not alone. In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes.
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