I'll call it my wedding gift. The business of serving gave Gerald a few moment’s grace, for he was dubious about the effect on an elderly female, not in the best of health, of raking up old memories. A queer game this: he could not move directly as in an ordinary case of manhunt. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. “You love some one else?” he repeated. And he had good reason before long to congratulate himself on his forbearance.
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