Entering the Lodge, the first person he beheld was Austin, who was only just up, and whose toilette appeared scarcely completed. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. You’re such a strange girl. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. That day Gerald had brought her to this excessively careful house, where she had felt very much alone and very unlike herself.
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