“It was your own fault,” she exclaimed. ’ She inclined her head, looking up at him through her lashes, and passing a tongue lightly over her lips. ’ ‘Why not?’ Gerald asked straightly. The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. And now her father said she must not go.
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