" "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling. Death belongs to God, young man. But what he did say is that he thinks the Valades will receive very short shrift from his greatuncle the general. Having accomplished his intent, Gerald let the lad go and had himself driven back to Stratton Street. He was dressed with the utmost care, and he set his feet upon the broad walk as though the action were in some way a condescension.
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