’ Obediently, Gerald rose and walked to the other end of the parlour. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. ’ ‘And you believe her?’ asked Lucilla, raising her brows. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle.
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