But Miss Stanley took no notice of these things. Beneath the hood it was evident that her rebellious hair was bound up with red silk, and fastened by some device in her ears (unless she had them pierced, which was too dreadful a thing to suppose!) were long brass filigree earrings. ‘Gérard, do not go,’ she cried, breathless. ’ ‘Will you go back there?’ asked Gerald. Her father was holding her waist, smiling. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. Mr.
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