The word "criticism" had no concrete meaning to her then; no more than "compromise. She was surprised at his modesty. His friendship seemed a thing worth having. Dieu du ciel! Gerald was kissing her! She struggled to be free, and the arms that held her loosened, the lips leaving hers. The wine was sweetened with cinnamon and cloves and rare edible flowers, which her father had instructed her not to drink excessively of. Alderley’s company of militia being his own, he was able to choose duty periods convenient to himself and his captain, and was under no obligation to wear dress uniform. “It is so difficult,” she murmured, “so impossible to explain. ” She had not, she reflected, remembered how prominent his eyes were. In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth. "Drink this," cried Jonathan, handing her the cup. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers.
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