’ ‘Nothing of the sort,’ Gerald said calmly, sipping at his burgundy. He was Julian five years younger, the spitting image. Softly she rose to her feet. In a moment his grasp grew weaker. Her aunt arrived about halfpast ten, in black and with an unusually thick spotted veil. The boat's sure to run foul o' the bridge; and if she 'scapes stavin' above, she'll be swamped to a sartainty below.
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