What does she look like?’ ‘Black hair. It was shameful, but again, her mother had prepared her for it. ‘Would it so? What sort of a girl is she, then?’ ‘She’s a consummate devil,’ Gerald declared roundly. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes.
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