McClintock, striking a match to relight his cigar, broke the spell. ‘What are you going to do now, Gerald?’ He sipped his wine and shrugged. Everything was very neat; it had evidently been straightened up and kept for her. ‘The poor girl was thrust into a convent to become a nun. Oh, Heavens; that I should have ever indulged a hope of happiness while that terrible man lives!" "Compose yourself, Joan," said Wood; "all will yet be well.
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