Gerald was conscious of that sliver of irritation again at mention of the name. Here he was preparing to leap over the hedge into the fields on the left, when he was intercepted by two horsemen, who, hearing the shouts, rode up and struck at him with the butt-ends of their heavy riding-whips. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. The sky periodically pummeled her with hail pellets as she would pass through the deserted intersections. "He's in St. Come now, I am very glad to see you again so soon, mademoiselle whatever-your-name-is.
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