The son of Prudence instead was obliged to take her back to the convent on Sunday to see Martha and tell her the good news, and to fetch her meagre belongings. ‘Parbleu, how you make me talk!’ ‘Your secret is safe with me, I promise you,’ Gerald said reassuringly. His hands came up, his face broke apart. It would be too mortifying. She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. It'll be your turn to save mine next. But Jack was too nimble for him. Then, if you weren’t looking, he’d get five feet closer.
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