"Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. The fanatic has no such word in his vocabulary. ’ She advanced towards him. ’ ‘Oh, do they?’ Gerald said, sudden wrath kindling. “I don’t know. And talking of every conceivable thing. You don't notice the heat; but it is always there, pressing down.
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