“It was the night you left Paris. So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill. At a little after five, on that day, four horses dashed round the corner of the Old Bailey, and drew up before the door of the Lodge. “If you interfere between us,” the man said, “it will go hardly with you. ‘Lord,’ he uttered, glancing about with a disparaging eye. Dieu du ciel! Gerald was kissing her! She struggled to be free, and the arms that held her loosened, the lips leaving hers.
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