” He made his voice very low and full, and looked closely into her face. Do you remember what I said when you took me at the Mint four days ago? I told you my turn would come. I keep on thinking of you. Read it, and you'll find that your unfortunate uncle, Sir Rowland, surrenders to you all the estates in Lancashire. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks. How the deuce did I ever manage to father such a brainless nincompoop? A nun, for God’s sake! A confounded Catholic nun. It makes me want to be just everything I CAN be to you. More than this, it would serve to mitigate her own abysmal loneliness to pool it temporarily with his. ’ ‘I thank you,’ Gerald said drily. "Bess wouldn't bear a rival.
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