Which were perfectly true, as Gerald was aware. Mr. “I won’t pretend,” he said, “that this is an accident. And don’t tell me what you’ve been up to, dashing off to Remenham House with that Kimble lad, and Lord knows what besides, because I don’t want to know. A boy like John’s dashing friend David Mitchell, someone who shares your love of academics. From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she addressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels.
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