‘Lord,’ Gerald uttered, his inexplicable annoyance evaporating. " "Wait a bit, massa," replied the grinning negro,—"lilly bit—see all right fust. And she was about as capable of intelligent argument as a runaway steam-roller. My only love is for my poor lost son. You are wedged in amongst a crowd, perhaps in the promenade, you lean over the back, you are almost out of sight.
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