CHAPTER VII. I’m not Gerald, remember. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. . Presently they came to a wall, on the other side of which the dog began to bark violently; but Blueskin tossed him a piece of prepared meat, and uttering a low growl, he became silent. . But I mustn't think of these things, or I shall grow mad. It would surely be only common politeness to drop her a hint—a fellow countrywoman too. I understand.
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