’ ‘You mean imbecile, don’t you?’ Gerald said, and turned his head to share the joke with Melusine. “You could tell me but you’d have to kill me?” He asked with a sardonic grin on his face. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. But, urged by his wife's cries, who was more anxious for the preservation of her child's life than her own, he snatched up the infant, and made his escape from the back of the premises. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. "Choose, Jack.
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