“I’ve been through all that,” she went on, after a pause. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers. Now, however, as Gerald watched them, their heads were together and they were murmuring in French. You can go for a walk with Lucy. She did not hear his approach, but continued her occupation without raising her head. Not the explosive vigour of the north-born, but that which would quietly meet physical hardships and bear them triumphantly. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece.
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