Grasping one of chairs about the little table, he drew it forward and sat astride it, in a fashion as insolent as it was unexpected. "Mother!" cried the son, "help!" "What is this?" shrieked Lady Trafford, raising herself on the couch, and extending her hands towards him. The perspiration stood out upon his forehead. ’ Gerald unfolded his arms and threw his hands in the air. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil.
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