Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. Put him in the stocks, and there let him sleep off his drunken fit. Lots of us are like that. Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how. But a man is a mixed creature. ‘Parbleu, but what a person you make me! One who spies. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire.
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