’ ‘Why should Gérard care?’ sneered Gosse. ’ ‘What?’ ‘Neat little toy. Wood's daughter,—to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago,—was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand. She needed to protect the baby. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. She was not allowed to bathe herself: another prisoner, with a privileged manner, washed her.
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