‘Indeed?’ Gerald said politely. These were his mistresses, Poll Maggot and Edgeworth Bess. “My name is certainly Pellissier,” she said, “but I am very sorry—I do not recognize you in the least. She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent.
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