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The vicomte must be well known to those high-born who have gone to England. “Annabel!” she exclaimed. ‘Jacques! This—this bête he attacks me, and you stand there and you do nothing. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. “Women know these things by instinct,” she answered. Only him big hoss padlock—noting else. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees.
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