‘Don’t lose your temper again. I shall still wear your favor—even if it is a stolen and forbidden favor—in my casque. . Monsieur Valade heaved a gusty sigh, and Gerald, with heavy diplomacy and a forced heartiness of manner, turned the subject. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. She tended the twins while the Clotilde was in Sebastian’s private chambers, a place she gave a wide berth. Gerald realised Lucy had taken the hint, for she dragged her betrothed towards the door. Sir Rowland then fell. And, if I'd my own way, I'd drown 'em all like a litter o' puppies.
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