Gerald lifted an eyebrow. Something forbade him to draw her toward him and seal the compact with a kiss. "Once there," proceeded Wild, without noticing the interruption, "he's as good as in his grave. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. I have worn it for weeks and weeks. In the general survey of the prison, taken in the preceding chapter, but little was said of the Lodge.
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