"I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy. Should be home soon. You have the gift of words, but you haven't started to create yet. "One of us has got to die," he panted. Gerald? But could he be here so quickly? She hastily dabbed at her eyes, thankful for the darkness that she saw had come on outside unnoticed, dimming the room. Put on that new dress—the one that's all white. These were presently joined by a regiment of foot. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs.
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