‘It was your son who left the place empty then?’ he asked. Always as black and bitter as gall. ’ ‘Why should Gérard care?’ sneered Gosse. ” He then slipped a diamond ring on her finger. CHAPTER XXX. Burn your palette and your easel. The man turned at the exclamation, and so did several of the bystanders; but they could not make out who had uttered it.
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