‘Jarvis Remenham was your mother’s father. Even the chattering monkeys, parrots, and parrakeets departed the fruit groves for the smelly dark of the jungle. She left for good after he fell asleep. There was a concerted gasp of shock from both the black-garbed lad and the coachman. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad. Gerald crossed back to the window. During the foregoing occurrences a dead calm prevailed. But did Gerald trouble himself about her? No.
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