’ Gerald moved to the long sofa, dusted it with elaborate care with one of its cushions, and with a gesture invited her to sit down. My father thought the latter. " "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. ” Lucy said.
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