“Oh dear, I’m not dressed. ” Sir John stamped his letters, brushed his hat, and carefully gave his moustache an upward curl before the looking-glass. Gerald reached out a hand to stop her. His face warm, Captain Roding glared them into silence, and firmly marched his captive off down Piccadilly, heading for Stratton Street where the town house of the Alderley family was situated. And she would have rushed to him, if she had not been forcibly withheld by her son. For a time she promenaded the room.
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