" So, after a time, encountering the blot, she herself would supply the word Faith. The father was a madman. He told her something about music, the great world outside. ‘That—that—why do you speak of him?’ ‘Because I feel you ought to know,’ Gerald said calmly, but rising and watching her closely, ‘that all your trouble may be in vain. But she did not in the least want to do that. He had done this a dozen times on the way from his office. “I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked.
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