Gerald raised a questioning eyebrow. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. If he took a fancy to you, he invited you to the house for tea, bitter and yellow and served in little cups without handles. It was equally as beautiful but not quite so fine as the daughter's. Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world. ” “You alarm me,” she murmured, smiling.
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