’ ‘Lord,’ Gerald murmured, awed more by the outspokenness of his hostess than by what she had said. He was always drawing contrasts between a woman’s lot and a man’s, and treating her as a wonderful new departure in this comparison. Poor little one. I would that you were my own. ’ Le Petit Journal said that the man was dead. She felt that she had passed a difficult corner, and that now she could go on talking with him again, just as she had been used to do before she understood what was the matter with her. The looming face was 71 over her own once again, and arms as strong as iron bars held her down.
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