Despair engulfed her at the horrid remembrance that the one particular Englishman she knew to be sympathique did not at all wish to marry her. ’ ‘Why did you not claim it yourself?’ asked Gerald. What was to happen now? She turned to Roding quickly. His father and mother were a lawyer and a doctor, respectively. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. Italians. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. CHAPTER XXXI.
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