Maybe half a year, counting this summer. She made a slow tour of the front of the house without success, and then started back along the rooms behind, dragging open the drapes each time to get just enough light to recognise what was on the walls. It was surely odd that her thought should pick up that picture and recast it so vividly. This started a thought moving. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. But Gerald took it for the routine interest in an eligible bachelor, although he was aware many females had an eye for scarlet regimentals. The thing rankled in her mind night and day. " "Faix, then we'll do it in style," cried the fellow. " "We shall see," rejoined Jonathan, turning carelessly upon his heel. ‘Would you have me face my maker with that on my conscience? If I’d died, there’d have been no one to tell you, for your father would not have done. But no more of that.
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