She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. ’ She inclined her head, looking up at him through her lashes, and passing a tongue lightly over her lips. ’ ‘But you must,’ Gerald said, quite as if he meant it. Besides these there was a warm gooseberry-tart, and a cold pigeon pie—the latter capacious enough, even allowing for its due complement of steak, to contain the whole produce of a dovecot; a couple of lobsters and the best part of a salmon swimming in a sea of vinegar, and shaded by a forest of fennel. He could not move; but stood like one stupified, with his hands clasped together, and eyes almost starting out of their sockets, fixed upon his unfortunate parent.
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