Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck. “I cannot reason with you,” he said at last wearily. You came to me, you wished me to speak to Anna. Don’t leave me in this beastly thing. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. ’ Gerald noted the mixture of respect and apprehension in the glance he received from the boy.
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