She was a large, resilient girl, with a foolish smile, a still more foolish expression of earnestness, and a throaty contralto voice. The petals have fallen—the red petals we loved so. A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. Then, when the tension was getting unendurable, and she was on the verge of speaking to some casual passer-by and demanding help, her follower vanished.
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