Set on unravelling her secrets, Gerald pursues every possible clue—much to the indignation of Mademoiselle. Little Anna screamed and thrashed as she was torn from Lucy’s skirts. She had decided that she would spend the next morning answering advertisements in the papers that abounded in the writing-room; and so, after half an hour’s perusal of back numbers of the Sketch in the drawingroom, she had gone to bed. Also she made little pussy-like sounds of a reassuring nature. Too much, perhaps. “It does not appear to me,” he said, stiffly, “to be an affair for jests.
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