Were you born here, madame?’ ‘Mais non. It was locked. ’ ‘Don’t be a little fool,’ Gerald snapped irritably. She began to feel odd sensations while peering busily at his shoulder and profile. “I will tell you the truth. “But—your people!” she gasped. Every word you utter puzzles me. In a moment or two, Madame Valade recovered her sangfroid. "At present under the care of his preserver—one Owen Wood, a carpenter, by whom he was brought up. I’m not a lovesick boy.
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