” “What else,” Lady Lescelles murmured, “are men for?” Anna laughed. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. “Miserable bounder,” he murmured. The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. “I don’t have time for this. Even the most sullen and withdrawn were sensitive to the penetrating nastiness of the fog. " "Bring him here,—let me see him—let me embrace him—let me be assured that he is safe, and I am yours. ‘But, Gérard—’ ‘Don’t start arguing,’ he said in a tone that brooked no defiance.
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