‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. So many distresses— so many joys coming at the same time are too much for me. ‘You wish to tell me something? Parbleu, I have nearly forgot once more. As though it was indelicate—it’s just a sort of shyness. The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. “Don’t!” she begged. "Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy.
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