A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. “You’re. And then her pace slackened. At last some anodyne formed itself from these exercises, and, with eyelashes wet with such feeble tears as only three-o’clock-in-the-morning pathos can distil, she fell asleep. Loving was better than that.
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