For a few minutes, she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence. Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears. “And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. He gave her one of the sweaty red cans. “You might have given me a chance, anyway. And Miss Miniver began to sway her. It had been a trying day. “But, dear, think! He is your father. But I am always afraid that he may get in while I am away. "Never heard of a sing-song girl; never heard of a geisha! Flower of the Lotus: the sing-song girl called her that. I daresay you have the whole thing wrong, Gerald. Ten years of military life had taught him caution, but only strengthened a fearless zest for diving into any promising adventure with unalloyed enjoyment. I want her to get forward, to set her among people who'll understand what to do with her.
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