"And when I further tell you," continued Jack, "that, after yourself and my mother, I am the next heir to the estates of my grandfather, Sir Montacute Trenchard, you will perhaps own that my caution is sufficiently disinterested. Then most horribly she was clasped about the waist from behind and lifted from the ground. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project. He crawled underneath the covers with her. Celeste he knew. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. Gerald lost his head. Sometimes we had the Illustrated London News and Tit-Bits.
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