Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. Which were perfectly true, as Gerald was aware. Mr. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet.
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