’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. ’ A faint smile crossed Gerald’s lips. “I am bored,” she said abruptly. I saw it this morning in the Daily Journal—an advertisement, offering a reward—" "A reward!" echoed Jack. The action steadied him; and there was a phase of irony, too, that helped. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe.
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