She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. ‘Jacques, where are you hurt?’ But as she asked the question, she saw the wound. Gerald noted the lady’s eyes brighten as she caught sight of him making his way through the throng towards her. I didn’t think—I don’t know what I thought. It is I who am persecuted by the man who calls himself your husband. " Mrs.
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