. "But to the point," continued Wild, unconscious of the peril in which the remark had placed him,—"to the point. For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have. She smiled encouragingly, laying aside her plate and turning her chair from the table. He kissed her deeply and hungrily. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. "It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. The Supper at Mr. ‘Then open it quickly.
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