’ ‘Poor little devil,’ said Gerald, genuinely sorry for her. All this was the work of a minute. Playing with one hand he turned on his stool to glance at her. Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand. All the sombre visions she had been pressing back, fighting out of her thoughts, swarmed over the barrier and crushed her. "He's a base, deceitful, tyrannical, hoary-headed libertine—that's what he is. And I’ll have that story off you as we journey back to town. My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts. She knew the truth of it all right. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird.
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