“You permitted me then to call you my friend. ’ ‘But what have I done?’ protested Gerald innocently. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. I have said good-bye to it all. . . A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced.
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