Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. ’ ‘Why not?’ Gerald asked straightly. “Where were you?” He inquired, rubbing her shoulders. No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own. The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth.
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