‘You put that thing away now, missie. The Old Mint. Your attitude to me—” He fell into a brown study. Could she hold him and manage the reins? If only Gerald had not gone. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. I hate what I am.
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