Then he put the paper by. The worst was over now. On the way he confessed. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. ‘It’s a pretty name. ’ ‘But you must,’ Gerald said, quite as if he meant it. “I was frightened then,” she declared.
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