" At this moment Charcam entered the room. I am no one, Gérard. ’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace. —Providence, I mean—HAS arranged it so that men will keep you, more or less. I’ve never met any one like you. Like carpenter, like chips. But he was a thief, a fugitive from justice. Her spirit awoke in dismay to an affection in ruins, to the immense undignified disaster that had come to them. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again.
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