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Updated: June 9, 2025
Hesitating just a second, Gyp drew off her gardening-gloves: "Of course! Here? Or in the drawing-room?" Rosek answered: "In the drawing-room, please." A faint tremor passed through her, but she led the way, and seated herself where she could see Betty and the baby.
She saw the short companion detach himself and go up to the baroness; a minute later, he was brought up to her and introduced Count Rosek. Gyp did not like his face; there were dark rings under the eyes, and he was too perfectly self-possessed, with a kind of cold sweetness; but he was very agreeable and polite, and spoke English well.
I hadn't forgotten that Polish chap's behaviour to you, my dear." Through Gyp passed a quiver of dread, a vague return of the feelings once inspired by Rosek. "I'm almost sorry you went, Dad. Did you say anything very " "Did I? Let's see! No; I think I was quite polite." He added, with a grim, little smile: "I won't swear I didn't call one of them a ruffian.
Threading the streets in his cab, he mused: "Did I do anything that really shocked her last night? Why didn't I wait for her this morning and find out the worst?" And his lips twisted awry for to find out the worst was not his forte. Meditation, seeking as usual a scapegoat, lighted on Rosek. Like most egoists addicted to women, he had not many friends. Rosek was the most constant.
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