C. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. “Oh, I can’t thank you. ” “We’ve come past it, miss,” the man answered, with a note of finality in his gruff voice. “How odd that I should almost spring into your arms just on my doorstep!” she remarked gaily. They turned the corner that joined Michelle's street to her own. ‘You did not find Gosse, that is seen, but—’ ‘Gosse? Gosse? Who’s this here Gosse then?’ ‘He is the Frenchman of whom I told you.
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