’ Gerald suppressed a grin. She had been to San Francisco, and what I learned about the world was from her. “Who took care of you after she died?” “My father. On Monday Charvill had still not returned, and the major duly presented himself at Mrs Chalkney’s house in Grosvenor Square, thanking his stars that his friend Roding would not be there to spoil sport. Gerald stood quite still for a moment or two, listening intently. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. Neither would she allow herself to feel guilty nor would she allow him to find a way into the house. Here again instinct guided her.
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