The boy she had loved was gone. "If Jack would come to my house, I'd contrive to hide him," remarked a buxom dame. “You must fetch a doctor,” she said. "I'll tote the odiousness outside. So she brought upon the stage the Reverend Henry Dolby, a preacher of means, worldly-wise and kindly, cheery and rotund, who, with his wife and daughter, had arrived at the Victoria that morning. A note of belligerency had crept into his tone. ‘Maybe not,’ Gerald conceded, ‘but I’m damned if I herald my approach with a lot of unnecessary blundering about in the dark. ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. ‘But it is not on the horse at all, Jacques.
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