‘He can’t be Valade, that’s certain,’ mused Gerald, unheeding. “You are beautiful, Lucy. ‘The gatehouse? But why must you move him at all?’ ‘Listen, missie. The room was reeling, or was it that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme effort. A granddaughter of mine!’ The idiocy of this notion stuck in his craw and he could think of nothing else for a moment.
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