She had but to choose. Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words. "Your sister is dead," said he, in a deep whisper. . ’ ‘Poor little devil,’ said Gerald, genuinely sorry for her. Having secured this implement, he burst from his conductor, and, leaping into the hatch, as clowns generally spring into the clockfaces, when in pursuit of harlequin in the pantomime,—that is, back foremost,— broke into a fit of loud and derisive laughter, kicking his heels merrily all the time against the boards. "Right," said the Master, "I didn't think of her.
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