"The pocket-book you prigged contained the letters I wanted. As silent as she had remained about who had brought her home last night. “Well?” she said. I'm glad of it, I'm sure; for it's all owing to him his poor mother's here. What need had she of Gerald, or anyone? Yet, if he was here, would he not make some foolish game with her and make her laugh? Instead of behaving in this fashion so stupide, and crying, crying, crying. She listened with dumb fear in her eyes. I am not a madman, or a pauper, or even an unreasonable person. ’ The lady’s face came round, a puzzled frown on her brow.
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