She looked round wildly, as if seeking some source of help, as the boots halted at the front door and the shouting intensified. She threw her arms around Rollo's neck and laid her cheek upon the flea-bitten head. Mother? Suzanne Valade, her mother? With deliberation, he spoke. Stanley took the letter and stood with it in his hand thoughtfully for a time. ‘How disappointing,’ mourned Gerald. “I remember it very well indeed.
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