I sang to him, and he was satisfied. It was intolerable to think that he might overhear words and phrases. But beyond "amicable agreement in which mutual concessions are made," the word "compromise" was as blank as the Canton wall at night. From his wallet he brought forth a yellow letter. ‘I thank you. The gallows has groaned for him for years. "But I'm a blackguard, too, Ruth. I had a sort of idea,” he went on, “that you were starting life all over again, and it seemed awfully plucky. "Well?" he whispered. ‘Why did you kiss me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Gerald admitted.
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