Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. Men have seen to that. Gerald lost his head. Then she begins to have visions of what is forbidden to all mortals: knowledge of the future. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. She rose at once with a little exclamation, half of surprise, half of pleasure. Seeing the footman about to follow her in, Gerald clamped a hand onto his shoulder.
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