‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. But that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream. They telephoned that you had absconded with ten thousand, and that if I would make good the loss within twenty-four hours, they would not prosecute. "How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked, irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind. uk Take a look at some of my Georgian romances here: https://animoto.
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