She had now the clear and tranquil expression of one whose mind is made up. Sir John felt that after all forty-five was not so very old. She noted the dank hair on his forehead, the sweat of revolting nature. Gerald watched its approach with vague interest, which quickened when he saw that it was drawing up outside the very house out of which he had just stepped. ‘You wish to die?’ ‘Not in the least.
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