He had died before they married, and when her brother became a widower she had come to his assistance and taken over much of the care of his youngest daughter. He leaned forward to better drink her in. ‘Come, cry a truce. “They are coming past our table. ’ ‘Gérard,’ she said, giving the French version with a soft “g” and not quite managing the “l”. "Don't leave him, if you're at all fearful, my dear," replied Wood, receiving the little burthen with a laugh.
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