’ ‘Ha! You’re Catholic, too, damn his eyes,’ growled the general. ‘Gérard—’ ‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion. Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend. Here was the place behind the shed where she had used to hide from Roddy’s persecutions, and here the border of herbaceous perennials under whose stems was fairyland. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh.
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