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There's something queer about that young man; but we'll never be able to find out what it is. I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother. Her head rose. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. Her mouth was worthy of her face; with small, pearly-white teeth; lips glossy, rosy, and pouting; and the sweetest smile imaginable, playing constantly about them. "Don't touch me. ’ ‘And why are you not married,’ she demanded suddenly, ‘if it is that you have land?’ Gerald grimaced. Wood," she continued, in an authoritative tone, seeing her husband ready to depart, "one word before you set out. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all.
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