’ Obediently, Gerald rose and walked to the other end of the parlour. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. Jonathan is in league with Sir Rowland to make away with you. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat.
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