Sir John felt that after all forty-five was not so very old. He would provide the necessities of life and protect her. Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap-door into a small loft. “No, don’t interrupt me. ‘But, Gérard—’ ‘Don’t start arguing,’ he said in a tone that brooked no defiance.
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