‘But Gérard—if you mean the fellow Alderley who was making eyes at Yolande—is not here. Gerald grinned. Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. "Get from under it, Jack!" vociferated Thames.
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