"I'm sorry for old Newgate that another jail should have it. I’m making a mess of my life— unless you come in and take it. It is a most wonderful piece of good fortune, as I suppose you will be prepared to admit. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. It fell with a clatter to the floor. ‘Ah, well, we’ll check the back and then go home. But this was important. Close upon this came another thought. She was perhaps three-and-twenty, and very pink and healthy-looking, showing a great deal of white and rounded neck above her business-like but altogether feminine blouse, and a good deal of plump, gesticulating forearm out of her short sleeve. ‘You are, I think, a gentleman, no?’ Gerald bowed. ” She spoke like a mistress addressing school-children.
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