The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. “I’d have to be blown up into a thousand pieces. ’ ‘As a matter of fact, it isn’t,’ conceded Gerald. Wood's daughter,—to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago,—was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand. Wait a second.
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