’ ‘So did your business about marrying an Englishman seem to me,’ Gerald returned. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. ’ Gerald started. Perhaps you’ve heard—?’ Well, you know, he had. People shrug their shoulders and call me a crazy socialist. 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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