Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. A silence ensued. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. On their left the river, with its gloomy pile of buildings on the opposite side, and a huge revolving advertisement throwing its strange reflection upon the black water. He was indeed still in the throes of his bewilderment.
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