It was obviously pitched well, hitting her head at a good thirtyfive miles per hour. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. Glancing towards him she saw that a shadow had fallen upon his face. But I'm resolved to see Lady Trafford. Let him not bear the weight of my punishment. " "Take care you don't fall into it yourself," returned Jackson, with a slight sneer. “Will you say what you have to say, please, and go.
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