What need had she of Gerald, or anyone? Yet, if he was here, would he not make some foolish game with her and make her laugh? Instead of behaving in this fashion so stupide, and crying, crying, crying. Suddenly he understood what had happened. But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that. “What are you doing?” He cried. Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand. The lantern was on the ground inside, ready. ‘I do not believe you.
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