There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. She’d have thrown this thing if you hadn’t stopped her. ’ ‘I am afraid that there is,’ Gerald told her evenly. “There is some one else whom I care for!” He laughed hardly. Capes kept obstinately stiff, and spoke between his teeth. He seemed to be labouring under some great excitement. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child.
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