Gerald, I mean, not Madame Valade. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to reproach himself for his folly, in having wandered—as he conceived—so far out of his course. "I can do without it," muttered Jack. As he passed out he saw in the hall a quietly dressed man with keen grey eyes, talking to one of the footmen. .
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