He was normal now, and the coat was only a coat. " "Loved me! You!" "I loved you," continued Jonathan, "and struck by your appearance, which seemed above your station, inquired your history, and found you had been stolen by a gipsy in Lancashire. She's not for pleasure, but for work. For an instant, Gerald wished the rest of the world away that he might go to her and administer appropriate comfort. But it is not your name. ’ ‘Indeed, I’m beginning to think so,’ he said ruefully.
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