’ ‘Precisely,’ Gerald repeated. ‘You do not know how I am like my mother. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future. She read on and on, now thrilled by the swiftly moving drama, now enraptured by the tender passages of love. ” “I suppose not. "The intelligence seems new to you. “Oh, dammit!” he remarked, “dammit!” with great bitterness as he faced it. If you had any idea what depths people have sunken to as you reside safely in this high fortress, you would search your soul to find the mote of charity left there.
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