‘She means thanks to you, General,’ Gerald translated automatically, forgetful of his old commander’s fiery temper. You’re neither of you any longer under arrest. You are not with the Kent militia, are you?’ ‘West Kent, yes. A young man with shiny frock coat and very high collar, advanced towards her languidly. ‘In that case, he is probably already dead, and you have nothing to worry about. Fly! they shall knock me on the head—curse 'em!—before they shall touch you. She had started wearing the dresses he bought for her, the white and blue shift he said, “brings out the color in your eyes”.
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