’ ‘Get rid of the wench,’ Roding said brutally. I never could. This year—I’ve got it badly. Dieu du ciel, but where was Gerald? On the move again, she found herself standing before one of the mirrors, gazing into her own countenance without seeing it. . ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. ’ ‘But that would make her half French,’ Hilary pointed out.
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