When she occupied, it, it was neatness itself; the little porch was overrun with creepers—the garden trim and exquisitely kept. Seeing the footman about to follow her in, Gerald clamped a hand onto his shoulder. Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside. “What can one say?” she exclaimed. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. "It's scarcely necessary," replied Wild; "however, if you require it, certainly.
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