Set on unravelling her secrets, Gerald pursues every possible clue—much to the indignation of Mademoiselle. He had only been prevented, indeed, by a fear of Mrs. ’ ‘Yes, that’s what I’m talking about,’ Gerald said. “Surely!” he remarked, with an expression of worried appeal. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. I know London better than you, and I have had to earn my own living. ‘I try to be.
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