“I love you, you know. ‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly. She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. Wood," added she in a hollow voice, and with a ghastly look, "gin may bring ruin; but as long as poverty, vice, and ill-usage exist, it will be drunk. Understand me.
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