like, well, um, you’re kind of looking just a little bit homely lately. Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman. " Sir Rowland caught at a chair for support, and passed his hand across his brow, on which the damp had gathered thickly. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked.
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