“How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. "By the powers!" he added, turning his lantern full upon the face of the captive, "he's a nice gennteel-lookin' kiddy, I must say. ‘Moi, je vais vous tuer!’ ‘I don’t think so,’ Gerald said through his teeth. He knew my name, and also that I had been living in Paris, and a man doesn’t risk claiming a girl for his wife, as a rule, for nothing. “I should kill you. Still —there you are!” He paused. Gianfrancesco stumbled belatedly onto the beach, his feet padding wet sand.
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