She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her. ‘He can’t be Valade, that’s certain,’ mused Gerald, unheeding. ‘Either you tell me why you want the wretched animal, or it stays here. ” His eyes were closed. She paused. Something in his tone pinched her heart. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight.
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