‘Gérard—’ ‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. Immeasurable disgust possessed her. Glancing idly up at her own window as they had swung round the corner she had seen a strange thing. In mid-bite, she heard a car door slam that was recognizable. Sheppard. ’ ‘Oui, mais—’ ‘You are, without exception, the most unprincipled, the most unscrupulous, the most shameless, immoral, devious—’ ‘Pardon me, sir,’ burst in Mrs Ibstock suddenly, her tone belligerent, bringing the captain’s tirade to an abrupt halt as he turned to glare at her. Where was the message? Where was Gerald? Until he came back, what was there for her to do? Eh bien, it made no sense to do anything. Why, that boy could hide for thirty years—without the girl. We'll lather him with mud, shave him with a rusty razor, and drench him with aqua pompaginis.
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