” “It was Cheveney!” he said slowly. I don’t know. I know my son's voice too well. “For Heaven’s sake, Dunster, don’t let her out of the carriage, or hansom, or whatever she came in. The amazing tonic of the thought! From time to time she laid her hand upon Spurlock's forehead: it was still cold. It’s the feinting tricks you have to watch for. Gerald’s chest tightened. Nothing, in short, portable or valuable was left. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed.
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