Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. She had lost her nerve, and there was no more freedom in London for her that night. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. Mrs. The performance over, he relaxed and closed his eyes. ‘Parbleu,’ said Gerald. Fast.
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