There is so little abandon, so little real joyousness. It was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance. She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. Too much blood has been shed already. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. Such a beautiful boy he is, but his intelligence is marginal.
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