‘Tell me what you know of Miss Charvill?’ he ordered severely. This was automatically rather than thoughtfully done; habit. “I remember,” she said, “that the first night I saw you, you spoke of my sister as your friend. Now it is—’ ‘What are you doing still here, missie, that’s what I’d like to know?’ demanded the man Trodger, sticking to his guns. Nor Jacques. Yet you catch her eye—you can’t seem to escape from it. “I can’t imagine what has come over you,” said her aunt. ‘Do not say such things, you—you imbecile. ‘But if there is one, how in the world did this mystery lady of yours know of it?’ ‘That, Lucy, is precisely the point that has been exercising my mind,’ Gerald said, turning his eyes once more to the group of French exiles in the alcove. His hand flew across the paper. You never saw him before yesterday. Gerald doubted there would be many eager suitors, even assuming the comtesse was keen to marry off her daughter to a foreign protestant. The noise was raucous.
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