He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out. She felt her heartbeat accelerate until it was pounding her chest. ‘Moi, je vais vous tuer!’ ‘I don’t think so,’ Gerald said through his teeth. At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. Apparently he had projected beyond his table some hypnotic thought, for it had held him all through the dining hour. I am not of the canaille, but a bourgeois. " "Poh! poh!" rejoined Ireton; "it was mere idle boasting.
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