"Oh, Gemini!" she exclaimed. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that. Had Gosse taken it as he escaped? What could she do? Gosse now knew that she was the daughter of Mary Remenham. She too had seen. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast.
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