I did not know what I was saying. Her face scarcely reflected his enthusiasm. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. The house became joyous again with the talk of babies and wedding festivities. He “went in” for microscopy in the unphilosophical Victorian manner as his “hobby. Sheppard, bitterly. Which is also puzzling. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. But did Gerald trouble himself about her? No.
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