Perhaps I've been mad all these years; I don't know. CHAPTER XXVIII. "You've won your wager. Dieu du ciel! Gerald was kissing her! She struggled to be free, and the arms that held her loosened, the lips leaving hers. She felt terrible lying to him. He seemed to deliberate. Much too formal for a cosy chat between old friends. “I hope you are going to Carey House. Still silence everywhere. Salvation. Oh, I’ve loved love, dear! I’ve loved love and you, and the glory of you; and the great time is over, and I have to go carefully and bear children, and—take care of my hair—and when I am done with that I shall be an old woman. Neither you nor your mother shall escape me.
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