Gerald lifted an eyebrow. Well, whenever you say, I promise to do away with the mystery. Here, indeed, was a type with which he had never until now come into contact—a natural woman. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. “Could you play ‘Fiddler on the Roof’?” father Thomas pleaded. Kneebone's house, the young man hastened to a hotel in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, where, having procured a horse, he shaped his course towards the west end of the town.
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