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Nor, he would wager, had the heroic Monsieur Valade, who had rescued her from that life and brought her to England, taught her in that short time all that Gerald was certain she knew of men. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ agreed Gerald with a grin. I didn’t dream, not even in my wildest dreaming, that—you might have any need of me. She began to draw on her gloves thoughtfully. The weather's been foul enough for the last fortnight, but I've never turned my back upon it. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly. Perhaps he had lost his loved ones and was wandering over the world seeking forgetfulness. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter.
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