But his words were borne away by the driving wind. Give me your hand. Then the storm broke. Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. ‘You speak as if you expected to meet her again, Gerald. He pressed his lips to her with a much greater force than she had anticipated. The female’s words caught at his attention, and he no longer heard what the young Poussaint girl was saying to him.
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