Gerald watched her perambulations in silence, his heart wrung. I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman. ’ ‘She?’ scoffed Martha. Trenchard glanced at the document. ” “Of course,” he said, reaching out his hand tentatively for his hat, “I could go away even now. There he stands. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. I’m minded to take a whip and beat some sense into you. There was—a service.
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