Chapter Two ‘Our French friends are beginning to form quite a little coterie,’ remarked Gerald, covertly studying the group gathered in an alcove at the other side of Lady Bicknacre’s ballroom. “A woman wants a proper alliance with a man, a man who is better stuff than herself. And now, when you come at last, you bring me this grandfather, and you dare to tell me I am like him. At length the task was done, and she jabbed the needle into a cushion, folded the coat, and rose. William Kneebone, Of me, Sir, you shall never be bone.
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