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” Her elation teetered in mid-air for a second, then began to flutter down around her like a badly-built house of cards. She caught at the idea. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. It began in the eyes and spread to the lips: warm, embracing, even fatherly. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. Overcome by his affliction, Mr. ‘Gérard—’ ‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion.
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