She could now see to read; so she stirred the manuscript about until she came upon the first page. Every time you mention the father, she turns into marble. Gerald frowned. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. Certainly not a gentlewoman. Never. She was a lone white woman, therefore marked. Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words. And he unsheathed his sword.
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