Gerald watched her perambulations in silence, his heart wrung. “You are late,” she murmured. "You call in vain," rejoined Thames. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. “There’s no delusions, so far as I know,” said Ann Veronica. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother.
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