Surely he was imagining this picture. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. “You can say what you have to say before Mr. I have always been lonely. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. And now—Dear! Dear! The dayspring from on high hath visited me. He strangled the infant, which slipped out of his hands and screamed.
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