"What shall I say? Shall I tell you, or shall I leave you in the dark—as I must always leave her? What shall I say except that I am accursed of men? Yes; I have loved something—her mother. The wedding procession passed on, and the cynical rabble poured in behind. Gerald shook his head. Eric Vorsack still toiled at work. You were afraid of me, afraid that I should have been shocked, afraid of the scandal. The distinction lay chiefly in the right to pat their heads.
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