’ ‘Also madame his wife—’ Charvill’s gorge rose. Why are you so anxious?" "Oh, if you can't see your way…. She must not tell Martha about Gerald. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. It was the last thing she felt like drinking. ‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald. Jerking forward, she jabbed backwards.
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