She observed the tides, amazed by how high the water could rise, almost touching the tops of the cliffs. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. It was hard to part with romance, but she had never thirsted so keenly to go on with her University work in her life as she did that day. Daughters were not like sons. On the same day, moreover, which, by a curious coincidence, was the birthday of the Chevalier de Saint George, mobs were collected together in the streets, and the health of that prince was publicly drunk under the title of James the Third; while, in many country towns, the bells were rung, and rejoicings held, as if for a reigning monarch:—the cry of the populace almost universally being, "No King George, but a Stuart!" The adherents of the Chevalier de Saint George, we have said, were lavish in promises to their proselytes. ‘Comment? What do you say?’ Gerald looked down into her face, and found himself touched by the uncertainty he saw there.
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