She glanced at the Frenchman, and found him struggling with the portrait that was embedded around his scalp. "What is it?" "The night," she answered. She peered into the darkness. He was always deceived by these rustlings which promised wind and seldom fulfilled that promise. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. Nor, he would wager, had the heroic Monsieur Valade, who had rescued her from that life and brought her to England, taught her in that short time all that Gerald was certain she knew of men.
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