” “In Paris, I think,” Ennison answered. "He is," returned Quilt, significantly. Mrs Sindlesham’s wrinkled cheek had paled, and her eyes were fixed upon Gerald in a look that wrung his heart. Salvation. He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially. The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind.
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