‘Quick, Gérard. Cursing himself for his inertness, Jack soon shook off this drowsiness, and set to work in earnest. ‘Why did you kiss me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Gerald admitted. In Darrell's open features, frankness and honour were written in legible characters; while, in Jack's physiognomy, cunning and knavery were as strongly imprinted. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. ‘Oh, the Frenchie.
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