Where was the expected message from this captain, who had promised to send her word at the instant Gerald returned to town. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. He had done it. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights. I have been the vicomte’s secretary, remember. ‘Lord, no! I’ve a better regard for my skin, I thank you. I'll call for you this afternoon when Wu is on. ‘Monsieur, my wife intended not to anger you,’ he said in a tone of apology. Stanley professed a great solicitude to warm his hands.
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