The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. ‘It had better not be, by God,’ had barked Captain Hilary Roding. ’ ‘Why must you?’ asked Gerald calmly. This is the first act. ” “No you’re not. And mind, your life,—more than your life—hangs upon your choice.
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