’ ‘So Charvill did tell him,’ Gerald said, once more staring into the hole in the wall. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. His apparel was sumptuous in the extreme, and such as was only worn by persons of the highest distinction. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said. It isn’t what I have been but what I am. He had just arrived from Manchester, whence he had been summoned by that treacherous thief-taker. It was a habit she had taken from Remenham House, but could not wear because of the colour which must draw attention. A riding-habit is all I have seen. Then fury claimed her and she could no longer pretend. She longed to allow him to kiss her again, to touch her again.
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