‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. The cart, meantime, had approached the fatal tree. ‘You’re as mad as she is, Gerald. There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. She saw marks in the dirt where he had been pacing. ” He frowned. " "Well," said Sister Prudence, "remember, I tried to save you some future heartaches.
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