He’ll survive. The woman I wanted was another man's wife. “Don’t be an ass, Ferringhall,” he said tersely. Everybody talking of you. ’ If she suffered from dragging pain in her joints, Gerald thought it explained why her features were prematurely lined. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray.
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