’ ‘Lord,’ Gerald murmured, awed more by the outspokenness of his hostess than by what she had said. "I sha'n't offer any of these to you two," he said; "but I know you won't mind me having an imitation king's peg. Something with iron resolve the father had kept hidden all these years in the lonely citadel of his heart. The light was poor, so that she saw their gleaming faces dimly and indistinctly. She could smell the sweet girl child he had buried in the garage in autumn, 1 even under the frozen ground.
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