She covered herself with her arms. ‘How could you possibly know it?’ ‘I know it,’ Lucilla told him frostily, ‘because Dorothée told me that Madame Valade went off with Gerald positively purring in her ear—which is a thing he never does—and came back with him looking like the cat after cream. His thoughts, indeed, were too painful for utterance, and so acute were his feelings, that, for some time, they quite overcame him. ‘You were his daughter.
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