‘It was your son who left the place empty then?’ he asked. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. He had said so. Montague Hill, and I do not think that under those circumstances I should be long about it. ‘Comment? What do you say?’ Gerald looked down into her face, and found himself touched by the uncertainty he saw there.
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