"In favour of my son. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. And, as he was about to put himself into a posture of defence, his mother clasped him in her arms. “Is that you, Nigel?” she asked. But I'll not believe it of you. *** Madame la Comtesse de St Erme regarded the English major with a lacklustre eye, Gerald thought. Hardened as he may be, that would touch him.
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