She must not tell Martha about Gerald. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. ‘You do not believe me?’ ‘I do not. ‘But for my dowry, what else? One cannot expect that an Englishman will marry any jeune demoiselle without a dowry. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. I hope that she is okay. I’m not to study, I’m not to grow. He buys his own clothes, chooses his own company, makes his own way of living. It was a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an Englishman. ‘Gammon. At least one of them was caught and put away. Abruptly, Gerald turned. Sheppard, sinking backwards upon the pallet.
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