But to confess about Gerald— no, a thousand times. and Mrs. He was braver than her husband, who paced and cowered in the corners of the once-sunny Palazzo. I——” The door was thrown open. Before his departure, he gave his assistant a glove. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. “I wonder how it is,” she exclaimed, “that my friends have so much more confidence in me than I have in myself.
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