"You had better let me convey her to Dollis Hill," he said. Had he been listening inside? ‘What is amiss?’ ‘That Frenchie, sir. He is a knight. ’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace. Rain pounded the tin roof, and waterfalls obscured the pavilion into its own private 91 chamber. “What are you doing?” he asked. Wood.
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