She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. “Did you—did you really think that they would take you for a Frenchman?” she exclaimed. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes. Gerald? But could he be here so quickly? She hastily dabbed at her eyes, thankful for the darkness that she saw had come on outside unnoticed, dimming the room. But Miss Stanley took no notice of these things. "It is Sheppard—Jack Sheppard—stop him!" And his shouts were reiterated by the pack of bloodhounds at his heels. Her eyelids fluttered with recognition, and she cried out softly. She was beautiful once, Lucia. She refused to sleep in the same room with him one night, kicking him in the shins.
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