They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. And taking the keys, he departed on the errand. She felt it would save explanations if she did not state she had left her home and was looking for employment. “Wasn’t Parliament to reassemble?” He put out his hand and leaned against a tree and crossed his legs. CHAPTER XXXI.
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