A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. ‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir. It was his belief that the French had enough troubles of their own in these difficult times without bothering to nose out British business. ’ There was a kind of aching hunger in Gerald’s gaze. "Now come along, Jack.
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