His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. His hand flew across the paper. And then scratched it out and wrote instead, “Gérard”. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. "A bad girl?" She put the question as she would have put any question—leveleyed and level-toned. The gentlemen are so particular now, and a good thing too, I say. "To-morrow I will take you to him. Why else?’ Gerald stared at her blankly. The girl’s eyes never left his face.
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