\" Michelle's eyes leveled on him dramatically. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. “The rarefied air? I thought you had a better head. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. ’ ‘I am not the imbecile you take me for,’ Gerald said with dangerous calm. " "You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily. As Wood obeyed, his foot slipped; and, casting his eyes upon the floor, he perceived it splashed in several places with blood. He measured out the portion of another peg, the bottle wavering in his hand.
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