A sophisticated woman would have translated the tone as a caress. ‘Parbleu,’ said Gerald. He’d borne mention of the woman’s name. . "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. There was no response. Dreams of adorable infants danced through her head as she cradled blankets in her arms.
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