’ Authority had won again, Gerald thought with satisfaction. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. It was supposed he was drowned in crossing the river, as his body had never been found. “Miss Ellicot!” Brendon echoed.
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