Clearly dazed, he stared, whispering an oath. You will leave me utterly distraught. “Go down and rescue the rags of my reputation,” she said, smiling. He gurgled as if trying to communicate. The doll she had never owned, the cat and the dog that had never been hers: here they were, strangely incorporated in this sleeping man. I didn’t ought to have sent for him. Nor, he would wager, had the heroic Monsieur Valade, who had rescued her from that life and brought her to England, taught her in that short time all that Gerald was certain she knew of men. Now I’d like the rest of your story. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments.
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