" "What did I say?" "Only one word," she said, offering her first white lie. " "Are you ready?" said Trenchard, striding towards the door. " "From some of your associates?" "From your uncle, from my uncle,—Sir Rowland Trenchard. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse. " "I'm a queer girl," she replied with a smile.
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