Which were perfectly true, as Gerald was aware. Bird and have come hither. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. " CHAPTER XIII. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. ’ ‘Which is exactly what started us off,’ Gerald said to his friend with a grin, as he gave up his injured hand to the other’s ministrations. ‘And I’ll say it as often as I choose, you confounded impertinent wench! Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m your grandfather, girl. ‘Because he knows you for an imposter,’ Melusine flashed.
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