She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. ” Lucy wanted badly to believe her. The violence of the collision nearly threw him backwards, and caused him to swerve as he sprang. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. ‘This, as you see, is an identity for your cousin, André Valade.
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