“I do not think that he is quite dead. ’ ‘Yes, but I’m afraid I am far too interested to stop mixing myself in your affairs,’ Gerald said ruefully. Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. ‘How disappointing,’ mourned Gerald. I have had no one but for you.
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