Robbed of their prey, the fury of the mob became ungovernable. His heart hammered in his chest. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. ‘You did not find Gosse, that is seen, but—’ ‘Gosse? Gosse? Who’s this here Gosse then?’ ‘He is the Frenchman of whom I told you.
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