He sat down. She was standing there, smiling at the audience as at her friends. He was so depressed and disheartened that he did not then believe he would ever write again. "Mother—dear mother!" said Jack, bursting into tears. And it filled seven sheets of notepaper, each written only on one side. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. ’ ‘Gérard,’ she said, giving the French version with a soft “g” and not quite managing the “l”.
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