Here, where every element of her surroundings was tawdry and commonplace, and before this young man of vulgar origin and appearance, it was striking. ‘Ah, now I may see what damage Gérard has done to me,’ she muttered, crossing to the table and putting her hand to the sore place at her neck. If there is, it’s a mere wrapping—there’s better underneath. “But I still think of my old foster brothers and sisters. Many’s the bullets I’ve dug out of fellows in my time. His face was wreathed in smiles, his beringed hand was cordially outstretched.
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