“I wrote it for you. I suppose I believe in God. ‘Only you made me lose my temper, and—’ ‘I made you do so? Pah!’ Gerald at last succeeded in ripping the handkerchief from her grasp, and swiftly held it to her neck, oblivious to her now bloodied fingers clawing at his hand. I saw her face and it was the face that had been hidden from me in dreams, a face very much like yours, Lucia.
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