"You," answered Jack, abruptly. ‘Do you tell me that my disreputable son had the infernal insolence to pass you off as that whoring Frenchwoman’s daughter?’ His answer was in their faces. I wouldn't have him see me in this state for the world. It was empty. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. ‘I can take care of myself, bête. Come along, my Newgate bird!" he continued, shaking him with great violence. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink. ‘But you said—’ Gerald tutted. Well, one must hope, that was all. She paused.
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