She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. The letter will explain all. It had a tiny flaw, most bizarre. Sometimes I think she’s tired of us. We have come to the conclusion, Brendon and I, that Mrs.
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