’ Chapter Five ‘Now then, young Jack,’ Gerald said, turning to the lad, who was sitting in the place lately vacated by his self-appointed mistress, but in a state of far less relaxation. He was as hard as a rock. “You wouldn’t. “You can’t imagine,” he said, “what a beastly thing a furtive love affair can be. She had lost her nerve, and there was no more freedom in London for her that night. Wood, bursting into tears, "God bless you!" Jack extended his hand towards him, and looked anxiously for Thames; but he was nowhere to be seen. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy. I am having them to my own soirée on Monday.
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