Well, I'd no idea," she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, "that people of quality laughed so. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. “Just leave them with me for now, Clotilde. ‘To find what?’ demanded Gerald. ‘We will converse in your own tongue,’ he said in French as he led her away.
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