He was astonished. He read but little, and that chiefly healthy light fiction with chromatic titles, The Red Sword, The Black Helmet, The Purple Robe, also in order “to distract his mind. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. In truth, she had been quite glad to lose the argument about remaining while the bullet was dug out of Jack’s side. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a faint shudder stir her shoulders. . ’ ‘Gracious heaven, Gerald! If your dear mama could not drag you to the altar, I am hardly likely to succeed. The young man was mollified by her sympathy, and flattered by the obvious attempts of several of the other guests to draw him into conversation. . " "All right, then. ” “Then don’t talk to me now. ” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner.
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