’ ‘How shocking,’ Gerald returned, grinning. I didn’t allow myself to see things as they were in those days; now I do. Then he lifted the black cloak-like garment from the floor. Fiercely defensive, as usual. ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. A forgotten island beyond the ship lanes, where that grim Hand would falter and move blindly in its search for him! From what he had read, there wouldn't be much to do; and in the idle hours he could write. He hated horizons.
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