He jumped back, cursing. "What the devil makes you out so late? And what has happened to you, man, eh?—you seem in a queer plight. Whisky kills him suddenly; it does not sap him gradually. Probably he has something to say and can't say it, or he writes well about nothing. ‘Me also I do not recall them. ‘And why not?’ ‘Because,’ Gerald said matter of factly, ‘convent-bred jeune demoiselles do not commonly know how to handle either pistols or daggers. There was a gulf of eight years between her and the youngest of her brace of sisters—an impassable gulf inhabited chaotically by two noisy brothers. 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 poor child!" Prudence took Ruth's hands in her own.
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