"I owe you nothing," he repeated, dully. Seeing the footman about to follow her in, Gerald clamped a hand onto his shoulder. Kneebone. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. Do you know how late it is?” She nodded. Entering London, he bent his way towards the west-end; and having some knowledge of a secondhand tailor's shop in Rupert Street, proceeded thither, and looked out a handsome suit of mourning, with a sword, cloak, and hat, and demanded the price.
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