“I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. ’ While he trod a deliberate path through the pink saloon towards the door, Gerald encouraged a flow of harmless chatter about the people Madame had met and the parties she had attended. They’ll face facts as facts, and understand. Once he had managed to stake his claim, she would have all to do to prove her identity and win it back. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. ’ ‘Why did you not claim it yourself?’ asked Gerald. "Your son's father was a thief; and Jonathan Wild (unless I'm misinformed,) was his friend,—so it's not unnatural he should show some partiality towards Jack. ” “It is within yours—if anybody’s,” he answered.
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