’ She flounced back to stare out of the window again. ‘Gérard is not mad, only of a disposition entirely interfering. Gosse! Dieu du ciel, but how did he get into the convent? She had perforce to obey his command, for speech was impossible. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. ‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly.
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