“My dear sweet Lucia. But you have not finished surely. But this I cannot do. The old lady’s face was stiff with anger. She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. She found a little difficulty in beginning. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila. ’ Fury was in her face. Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him. Spurlock was no longer a man before this instinct; he was a child in trouble.
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