A pretty name for a pretty girl. Before the congregation separated, the clergyman descended from the pulpit; and, followed by the coffin-bearers and mourners, and by Jack at a respectful distance, entered the churchyard. She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove. One day I can be a Gothic chick, and the next day I’ll be Hitler Youth. All my personal effects to be left in charge of the nearest American Consulate. She laughed as the deluge seemed to grow worse with every step. Nor, he would wager, had the heroic Monsieur Valade, who had rescued her from that life and brought her to England, taught her in that short time all that Gerald was certain she knew of men.
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