She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. “Sebastianus? Where did my husband go?” He smiled at her gently, patronizingly, as he prevented her from movement or escape. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. "That'll teach you to keep a civil tongue in your head for the future," observed Thames, as he helped Jack to his feet.
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