She tucked her stick under her arm and re-read Manning’s letter. There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. ” “Wonderful! You can teach my son. . ’ ‘That’s easy. He felt her observance and warmed to it. ‘Gérard—’ ‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion.
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