“He tried it. He could not tell by the look of her whether she was glad or sorry that presently she would be free. He was just getting cross about your being late for dinner—you know his way—when it came. What the devil is the matter, Dunster?” “I beg your pardon, sir,” the man answered, “there is a lady here to see you. The knight, who could ill brook this familiarity, instantly arose. So I packed up and came to London next day. ‘You would read my mind?’ Gerald was pretty certain he already had, but he did not say so.
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