" Mrs. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. Burn your palette and your easel. Or, better still, put all my clothes in the trunk. ’ ‘Yes, that rather leapt to the eye,’ Gerald said, and the faint smile sent a lick of warmth down inside her. Between Canton and Hartford two giants had risen, invisible but menacing— Fear and Doubt. “At a boarding-house?” he gasped.
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