’ Mrs Prudence Sindlesham, a widow of several years’ standing, so she told Gerald, was a scarecrow of a female, long and lank of limb in a figure that had once been willowy. The garçon was tipped as he had never been tipped before in his life. Perhaps once it had desired some other human being intolerably. He tore his gaze away, aware of the quickening of his heartbeat. “Very likely,” he answered. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable. ’ So pat, thought Gerald. “You are neither of you in the least like the ordinary boarding-house young man. I’ve got too much work. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. She started at the falling of a leaf, at the lumbering of a cow through the hedge.
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