I can’t. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. “It’s the spring,” he said. It was among artistic people. Was not Gerald altogether on her side? He was, even though he played games like an imbecile, a person tout à fait sympathique as she had discovered at the outset. ’ He glanced at the portrait behind her. It was like the grin of a fiend, and made my flesh creep on my bones.
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