"Yes!" interrupted Spurlock, savagely. Why do you think I’m indulging in all this very un-English love talk?’ ‘But you are idiot, Gérard. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. You did not complain then that I personated you—no, nor when Sir John came to me in Paris, and for your sake I lied.
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