‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald. “She’s all right. The man Hill has persecuted me for months—ever since I have been in England. Gazing at her with eyes blinded with tears, he imprinted one brotherly kiss upon her lips. ‘Jacques,’ she said, turning to the lad, and holding the habit out, ‘take this for me and leave it in the passage where we have left the lantern. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. “Vee,” she said, “come home.
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