My, um, my curfew. ‘You have rifled his papers. But why didn't you let me know they were coming. Peste, where was her handkerchief? She remembered then that it had been lost in the struggle with Gerald. . . ’ She spoke with difficulty, holding down the rising emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. ‘Jacques!’ He stopped, but he did not turn. Decidedly this was imbecile. ’ ‘Ah, but there’s the little matter of your presence here,’ said Gerald on a note of apology.
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