Gerald smiled and excused himself with the Poussaint girl, whose mouth pinched together as she threw a dagger glance at the voluptuous Madame Valade. He pushed her to his bed, little more than a cot, and pulled off her clothes. Even when you've a knave to deal with, let your actions be plain, and above-board. The action steadied him; and there was a phase of irony, too, that helped. And, turning at the touch, he perceived Sheppard's glance fixed meaningly upon him. Doesn’t know where he is, thought the captain.
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