"Miss Enschede was born on an island in the South Seas. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. ‘You were his daughter. ’ ‘Now you come to mention it, it is stupid,’ Gerald said, struck. ” “Your husband,” he answered bluntly. Sydney was watching her eagerly.
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