"Your sympathy is being wasted. ‘Monsieur Charvill,’ pursued Valade, ‘has left the chateau, and since we have heard from him nothing at all, but for the letters to his daughter from Italy. Gerald raised a questioning eyebrow. The day was sunny and pleasant, devoid of chill winds. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. " "May I trust you?" hesitated Thames.
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