Ramage. The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. I am sorry, but you have spoilt me. Spurling, you're a witness to the bet. Gerald smiled and excused himself with the Poussaint girl, whose mouth pinched together as she threw a dagger glance at the voluptuous Madame Valade. She had never been there before at that hour, in that light, and it seemed to her as if she came to it all for the first time. In the present case it did not matter, as there was no one else within earshot. ‘And so you sneak back,’ she threw at him, ‘like the jackal that you are. ‘You don’t mean to say she’s here?’ ‘Was,’ Gerald corrected.
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