’ ‘What?’ Roding’s glare tried Gerald’s control severely, but he pursued his theme unheeding. At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel.
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