I was always told my mother died the day I was born. Without you, we might have had some trouble. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. . He was in a curious state of desperation. He looked at it eagerly, but made no movement to take it. He did not particularly care. CHAPTER X. .
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