‘Gérard, you are a great fool. He became angry. She had looked forward to an explanation. “Your coffee’s too good to refuse. She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. You intrigue me. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. “I’ll run, too,” she volunteered. As the lapse of time and change of circumstances have wrought a remarkable alteration in the appearance of the poor widow, it may not be improper to notice it here. This, then, must be the person whom he had seen spring upon the western platform at the time of the collision between the boats.
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