"Stolen by a gipsy when scarcely five years old, Constance Trenchard, after various vicissitudes, was carried to London, where she lived in great poverty, with the dregs of society. ’ Gerald eyed her. I had no idea. It's certain. ‘You would like? And do you imagine that I will tell you?’ ‘Won’t you?’ ‘No, a thousand times. " "I have no people—anybody who would care. In the artificial light her skin had the tint and lustre of a yellow pearl. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above.
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