‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. ’ ‘I would have done, only you threatened to blow off my head,’ Gerald reminded her, laughing. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room. Nobody ever called me John, that I recollect.
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