Her aunt went off at a tangent. It fell to the ground and smoked ominously. “Let us walk round to Covent Garden,” he suggested. Hilary started after her, but Gerald stopped him. He was wrapped in a laced roquelaure, which he threw off on his entrance into the room. “I admired your sister in Paris,” he answered, “but I do not believe that I regard her now as altogether the same person.
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