‘Gerald Alderley, I don’t know what you deserve. He was into the passage in time to see her slip into another chamber at the end. "It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. “Yes,” she said, very faintly. His manner was deferential, even eager. That dress! Only a man—and an unworldly one—would have permitted you to proceed on your adventure dressed in a gown thirty years out of date.
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