I picked up her handkerchief on the floor. But, suppose I've no place to lock 'em up in, how then?" Quilt looked a little perplexed. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. ’ ‘Oh, do they?’ Gerald said, sudden wrath kindling. She pointed across the road. “It may be more difficult than you think,” she said.
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