" "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. "All right," replied Sheppard, with affected indifference. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love.
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