’ She bestowed a dazzling smile on Roding, who had reddened to the gills at these words. "You are no longer Thames Darrell," she said, casting her eyes rapidly over it; "but the Marquis de Chatillon. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom. But his grief was of short duration. There was a look in her eyes which puzzled him.
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