‘Do not beg my pardon. “I did it for love of you,” he said. “A joke! Sir John, if you had presented yourself here an hour ago we should have greeted you in pained silence. She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. And you shall have a share of the gold for yourself. That was the Frenchie, Valade, surely. But this is like—like walking round a house that looks square and complete and finding an unexpected long wing running out behind. Her nerves were shattered, her senses dazed by this unexpected shock.
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