" Mrs. ‘How do you do? I am so happy to meet you. He shrugged and, to Gerald’s relief, made to leave at last. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. Brendon looked across the room at her thoughtfully. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. Blood dripped down one side of her forehead. And then scratched it out and wrote instead, “Gérard”.
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