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"It's too hard," commented Gerty, standing upon the front steps and glancing wistfully up at him from under the white feathers in her hat, "but there's no help for it unless you care to call on Uncle Percival." "Uncle Percival?" he repeated, impatiently twirling his walking stick; "who's he?" "He's a curiosity." "What kind of curiosity? A live one?" She nodded.
"And he's left you here to wait for him, and I'm left too; so we must take care of each other, mustn't we?" Gerty laughed at this. "Where were you? On the stairs?" "Yes." "Suppose you sit down on this step by my chair, and talk with me a little while: I want to see if we can't find out what your other name is. Where do you say you live?" "With Uncle True." "True?" "Yes. Mr.
Then she leaned forward and pushed the logs together, as if she wished to destroy some last vestige of the words which were still visible to her eyes. "Laura!" called Gerty sharply. She had made a step forward, but as Laura rose from her knees and faced her, she fell back into her former attitude. "If you want to tell him," said Laura coldly, "you may do it when he comes.
"Gertrude, what is the matter? You are perfectly safe, and so is your father. For Heaven's sake, keep still! if you get up, you will be knocked overboard!" "Where is papa?" she cried. "I am here I am all right, Gerty!" was the answer which came from the bottom of the boat, into which Mr. White had very prudently slipped.
I will speak to you there." "You cannot go ashore," said he, calmly. "I don't know what you mean," said she; and her heart began to beat hurriedly. "I tell you I want to go ashore, Keith. I will speak to you there." "You cannot go ashore, Gertrude," he repeated. "We have already left Erith. * Gerty, Gerty," he continued, for she was struck dumb with a sudden terror, "don't you understand now?
I put them away I do not hear any more of them. I only know that you are beside me, Gerty; and I hold your hand!" He was no longer the imploring lover: there was a strange elation, a sort of triumph, in his tone. "Why, Gerty, do you know why I have come to London?
No, was his answer; 'but, of course, I know she will go, and be glad of the opportunity; it isn't every girl that is so fortunate. Now, Gerty, I felt provoked at his way of speaking, and I answered, in as confident a tone as his own, 'I doubt whether she will accept the invitation. Upon that, Mr. Dignity straightened up, and such a speech as he made!
If, as Gerty Bridewell had once declared in a fit of exasperation, "Arnold Kemper consisted of a surface," he managed at least to present those mystifying ripples of personality which suggest to the imagination depths of pleasantness as yet undiscovered.
"Have you a weakness for red, too, Mr. Trent?" enquired Gerty. The sparkle in his eyes leaped out at her challenge. "Only in the matter of hair," he retorted boldly.
But then I said, 'Are you a man, and to be cast down by that? She is bewildered by some passing doubt; her mind is sick for the moment; you must go to her, and recall her, and awake her to herself; and you will see her laugh again! And so I am here, Gerty; and if I am troubling you at a bad time well, it is only for a moment or two; and you will not mind that? You and I are so different, Gerty!
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