I am no one, Gérard. His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. He watched her constantly, trapped her in corners and slept with his arms locking her like a human cage. ’ ‘What?’ gasped Gerald, shocked. The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. From his pale skin and inky hair color it was apparent that his ancestry was half-Hispanic and half-European, perhaps French. ‘Where did you get that, miss?’ ‘It is the sword of monsieur le major. ” TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Typesetting and editing of the original book from which this e-text has been transcribed was inconsistent.
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