As he entered the shop, a tall portly personage advanced to meet him, whom he at once recognised as the present proprietor. ‘But, Gérard—’ ‘Don’t start arguing,’ he said in a tone that brooked no defiance. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. Send for Mr.
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