“Tell me his name,” he said, “and I promise that he shall never trouble you. In truth, she would quite like to have him rescue her. Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones. The fellow Kimble, to whom Gerald was indebted, was gaping. It was impulsive and natural. ‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly. “Gellett,” he called, “just come and clear up a mess, will you? I’ve smashed some things.
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