‘I do not know your Gérard. Indeed, I've heard him say that, but for his wife, he would shelter her under his own roof. I thought—the papers said——” “You thought that I was dead,” he interrupted. Where else could she go?’ ‘And there aren’t too many of them around,’ agreed Hilary on a gloomy note. He—he has rather a poor opinion of his contemporaries. “What can you do?” she asked. A dozen books lay upon the counterpane.
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