CHAPTER XVII. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. Splendidly. “Perhaps,” he said, “I have been to blame. ’ Gerald held out his hand, and she meekly gave the dagger up to him. I'll see her myself; and that's more than she bargained for, I'll be sworn. I must take you to the Suffrage people, and the Tolstoyans, and the Fabians.
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