She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. ‘What do we do now?’ Gerald took a pace towards the girl. “Ferringhall, were you or were you not dining last night at a certain restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes with—la petite Pellissier?” Now indeed Sir John was moved. But those days are over—quite over. ‘I know that, miss. Journeying blindly half way across the world, this man had found his quarry.
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