Finger to his lips, Gerald pointed in the direction of the noise. Sheppard, you mean, Sir," interrupted his wife, ironically. She pointed hither and yon, smiled and shook her head. I have slept with it under my pillow. A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. A vague desire to justify himself ruffled her father. “Your sister’s future is at stake.
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