‘You would have a history of my life? Very well. ’ Gerald eyed her. He listened. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. She had slept badly at first in a long chair next to the fire waiting for him to return, but caught on after that. . The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket.
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