“Good evening, Dorling,” he said. “You asked me in to tea,” he protested. ’ ‘Ah, but there’s the little matter of your presence here,’ said Gerald on a note of apology. Through fire and water, through penury and pestilence, your hand will always be on his shoulder. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. The more she disentangled the lines of her situation the deeper grew her self-disgust.
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