Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe. “I will not intrude upon you further. I might as well try to build a ladder to heaven. I say again, grace à vous. ToC During the whole of the next day and night, the poor widow hovered like a ghost about the precincts of the debtors' garrison,—for admission (by the Master's express orders,) was denied her. It came into her head with real emotional force that this must be some particularly fantastic sort of dream.
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