The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. “Will he live?” The doctor shook his head. . ’ I wanted, as I have never wanted before, to take you up, to make you mine, to carry you off and set you apart from all the strain and turmoil of life. ‘He arst me to find him someone who might go with you. But to confess about Gerald— no, a thousand times. 4.
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