She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. ” Her thoughts went into solution for a time, while she listened to a lark singing. The comtesse always felt Madame Valade to be not of her class, of course. Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. I cannot think he will welcome a French émigré for his granddaughter. The rascal will be at work before the morning.
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