Leonardo he was my—’ ‘Don’t say it,’ Gerald cut in hoarsely. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. ‘But we—mon mari and myself—we have the bonne chance. The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague.
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