His face was downcast. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. “It isn’t a joke,” she said. ’ ‘I presume you were not with her in France?’ Kimble stared. ‘Oh no, you don’t,’ said Gerald in a low tone. I wanted the magic of love. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere.
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