Never mind, I’ve got plenty. "The devil!" ejaculated Jonathan. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. The door opened. Taking the direction pointed out, he rode off. The rain smelled of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which lay only a few paces beyond the manor's white sea-soaked walls. “You shall,” she said. “Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself.
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