’ Lucilla Froxfield laughed gaily. A pretty name for a pretty girl. To make Ruth pay for it! He wanted to get away, into some immense echoless tract where he could give vent to this wild laughter which tore at his vitals. He had barely settled at his desk in his library, when he was disturbed by two morning callers. The action steadied him; and there was a phase of irony, too, that helped. ’ Gerald could not resist.
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