In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully. Nobody toys with me. Thieves and pickpockets are his constant companions. ‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly. ‘Jacques! This—this bête he attacks me, and you stand there and you do nothing. One of your aunts died, I believe, and the other removed to London.
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