“I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. He whispered in her ear. 1. Like a thorough-bred racer, he would sustain twice as much fatigue as a person of heavier mould. He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips. If you don’t like it, I won’t be mad, I promise. "Speak, or I fire!" "Well, if you will have it, it's Sir Rowland Trenchard. You see—I didn’t understand. Wild. I mean Miss Charvill no harm. The uncanny directness of those gray eyes, the absence of diffidence, the beauty of the face in profile (full, it seemed a little too broad to make for perfect beauty), the mellow voice that came full and free, without hesitance, all combined to mark her as the most unusual young woman he had ever met. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. Shari was to be protected, to be dissuaded from driving in cars with older boys at night, to be steered away from dope and beer and certain friends who had no plans to work or to go to college. He suggested they take the remains of the household to his country estate, where he could at least hunt through the winter to provide them venison and grouse. His eyes were narrow with desire like a panther’s as he grinned at seeing her visibly satisfied.
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