A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. It had been part of her wedding trousseau, a gift from her family to his.
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