‘You knew her well, Miss Mary?’ Mrs Ibstock turned at the window. She threw hat and coat on the bed and sat down before the fire. “If only Sir John were not Sir John I would ask you to come and have some supper. ” He stalked around the room. His hands were exploring her once again in the car. ‘There is Bernadette, Marie-Thérèse, Marie-Joséphine, Marie-Claire, Henriette—’ Exasperated, Gerald seized her by the shoulders.
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