Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. But, as you perceive, I brought it away with me.
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