Moreover, atrociously and inexorably, he allowed it to appear ever and again in horrible gleams that he suspected there was some man in the case. ‘Gérard—’ ‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion. Her straight strawberry blonde hair was exactly Cathy’s. The mere enumeration of the obstacles that existed would have deterred any spirit less daring than Sheppard's from even hazarding the attempt. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent.
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