‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. He turned. “I brought a man with me who is posted outside,” he remarked. As time wore on, and they did not return, Mr. A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. The door is open, so it is needless to ask leave to enter. And let us go on with our evening.
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