’ Miss Froxfield intervened quickly as her betrothed showed signs of erupting again. You are my prisoner, murderer. ‘This is altogether insupportable!’ She dug a hand into the recesses of the petticoat of her riding habit and a moment later Gerald found himself once again confronting the barrel of her overlarge and tarnished pistol. It was hard to part with romance, but she had never thirsted so keenly to go on with her University work in her life as she did that day. She did not speak to John in the week of school left after the Prom.
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