And, yet, I don't know. All this— the island and its affairs—was an old story; but her own peculiar distaste had vanished to a point imperceptible, for she was seeing the island through her husband's eyes, as in the future she would see all things. ‘You’ve cause to be grateful to Gerald, then. " "Anything, my dear," replied Wood, "What is it?" "Bury us together in one grave in Willesden churchyard. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. I mean—I mean to do what I can. ” “Don’t tempt me,” she said, laughing, and drawing her opera-cloak together.
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