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Anyhow, it were me as got you down to the wetnurse. . ’ She halted, her pistol still held firm and straight, both hands gripping it, her expressive features at once determined and uncertain. Before that came your father didn’t even know you were gone. I thank God for His sunlight on your face. Nor, he would wager, had the heroic Monsieur Valade, who had rescued her from that life and brought her to England, taught her in that short time all that Gerald was certain she knew of men.
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