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‘Parbleu,’ said Gerald. Fancying they were alone, Sir Rowland threw aside his cloak, and produced a heavy bag of money, which he flung upon the table; and, when Wild had feasted his greedy eyes sufficiently upon its golden contents, he handed him a pocketbook filled with notes. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. It just made me mad to the boiling point. But I don’t suppose you can understand. My little maidservant will think that I am lost. "Enough!" rejoined Wild; "he shall not return. ‘Do not smile at me and try to make me not angry any more,’ Melusine warned, ‘for I am very angry indeed with you.
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