‘Dare I suppose that to be of her making?’ Gerald flushed. She stood up and he sat down at the microscope, and for a time he was busy scrutinizing one section after another. “Yes,” he said, “I want to get away. She remembered abruptly that she was really living upon his money. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. “And I’m not happy. It's a mighty quare 'un, though.
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