Here we go, thought Gerald. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. For a few minutes he kept them at bay. She began to miss him when he was gone during the day and cherish the quiet times he spent only with her. You are my slave—and such you shall continue. "And the Marchioness is your daughter," added Thames. Her voice recalled him.
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