I can't give you my hand; but you may take it. Gosse had come to Blaye, so he had said, feeling it his duty as the vicomte’s erstwhile secretary to deliver the fateful tidings, bringing with him one of the servant girls, Yolande, who had also escaped the fury of the mob. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. “I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. "Take him home, Saunders," said Sir Rowland, resigning his faulty steed to the attendant's care, "I shall not require you further.
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