“Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. She began to want to lay her head down on his chest but absolutely denied herself. The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. Nicholas is dead. “But,” he said, “you do not blame me altogether?” She rose to her feet. I told her it was the end. Gerald did not know who she was, but he knew who she was not.
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