‘She won’t confide in you? Now, why?’ ‘Because that scoundrel Leonardo drummed it into her head that no man was to be trusted,’ Gerald announced viciously. She slid the dress off, naked underneath. This smile was more harrowing even than her former rigid look. Certain it was, that the slightest sound aroused him. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. After all, it is not long since that a Catholic nun in this country would have had to remain in hiding. Spurling. It would be too mortifying. Mr. Losing his presence of mind, Jack quitted his hold, and dropped upon the frame.
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