‘I beg your pardon?’ said Gerald. She chose to hold her nose. There was also a curious interview at a big hotel with a middle-aged, white-powdered woman, all covered with jewels and reeking of scent, who wanted a Companion. This she put into the trunk. The general had little doubt he was going to be asked to provide for the fellow as well as for his legitimate descendant. But the relief from the strain of her immediate necessities was immense. The rain smelled of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which lay only a few paces beyond the manor's white sea-soaked walls. Her thin fingers were armed with nails as long as the talons of a bird.
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