Without a word, the general reached out and took them, but his glance searched the girl’s face. He was a man tout à fait capable, this Gerald. Jack had brought away the bunch of keys which he had taken from Quilt Arnold, but, none of them would open it. "What did you say to him?" inquired Jonathan, suspiciously. A dozen shynesses and intellectual barriers were being outflanked or broken down in her mind. "Where can I hide myself?" he added, glancing round the room in search of a closet. And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks. He sat down. And who knew if the men that Gerald had posted there would follow her to protect her somewhere else? In truth, where were these soldiers? She could not see them, although she assiduously searched the mist-shrouded square from the vantage point of the bay window in the large first floor room which had become her headquarters. Of course, it was ridiculous, this inclination to assist the fugitive, based as it was upon an intangible university idea.
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