Maybe it’s his loss. “It is a great art,” she said in broken English. She felt smaller and more adventurous even than she had expected to feel. It was a long walk she had to undertake, even if she had endured no previous fatigue, but feeble as she was, it was almost more than she could accomplish. Mrs Sindlesham’s wrinkled cheek had paled, and her eyes were fixed upon Gerald in a look that wrung his heart. "And now, widow," continued the ruffian, setting down the candle, and applying his lips to the bottle neck as he flung his heavy frame upon a bench, "I've a piece o' good news for you. We'll get those books into your room first. It is what I have wanted, what I have meant all along. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. But the morning brought courage again, and those first intimations of horror vanished completely from her mind.
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