Accepting his glass from the butler, Gerald glanced at Mrs Sindlesham and saw a dimple peep out. " "Let me have a glass of brandy," said he, addressing the host. " This strong feeling of remorse having found a natural vent, in some degree subsided, and he addressed himself to his present situation. He's passed through some rough mental torture. And also she didn’t like them. Plote was sleeping or deaf. I freely forgive you. She came in while he was still in the throes, conviction battling with commonsense, his own apprehension.
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