’ ‘What, Madame Valade?’ demanded Gerald. “I knew of course that you were at the Montressor’s, but I had no idea that it was a music hall party afterwards. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. Ha! ha! ha!" "Jack!" exclaimed Thames, angrily. “I wanted to make love to you. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. Do not imagine that I cannot do so, as well as I can this Gérard.
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