"Mr. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. I can't invent; the thing won't come. . ‘Cousin? But I am a fool. It was still raining heavily, and profoundly dark. She went further: she doubted that he was fully conscious of where he was. He had only been prevented, indeed, by a fear of Mrs. .
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