He's as generous as he's frolicsome. ’ The old man simply stared at her. ’ Exasperated, Gerald glared at her. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight. . . All this Woman-who-Diddery —no damn good. But you must not imagine me wrapped in melancholy. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now.
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