I am no one, Gérard. You can have no shecrets from me. She sat on the edge of the bed —the wardress was too busy with the flood of arrivals that day to discover that she had it down—and her skin was shivering from the contact of these garments. Too intent on her search, and convinced besides that she was quite alone, she had been an easy prey. "Many thanks, Sir," replied Thornhill, with freezing politeness; "but Id not require assistance.
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