’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap. Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. "I'll soon settle this business. “Afterwards,” she said, “I should be perfectly content to have everything done for me. Do you hear me? Do you hear what I am saying?.
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