The few whites he had ever known generally offered to pet him when they really wanted to kick him. "What is this!" cried Sir Rowland. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. “Sir John,” her aunt repeated, with thin emphasis, “is coming to see your sister. “And of course you are my niece just as Annabel is, although I am sorry to learn that your conduct has been much less discreet than hers. I heard John was talking about you again from Jenny McIntyre. ‘One does not blow off the head of a man with whom one is in love, en effet.
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