’ Pierced to the heart by the poignancy of this utterance, Gerald could neither move nor speak. I thought it was a mirror at the first, for it was so very like myself. For four hours he had shifted his own troubles to the shoulders of these imaginative characters. "Devilish strange!" thought he, chuckling to himself; "queer business! Capital trick of the cull in the cloak to make another person's brat stand the brunt for his own—capital! ha! ha! Won't do, though. There is no Heaven for your mother. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. ’ ‘And it is very stupid of you to think of such a thing, because in this case, why should I seek out my family?’ Triumph rose in Gerald’s breast, but he took care to conceal it. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. " "Jack's mother?" exclaimed the young man. "What did the old fellow judge from, eh, Joan?" asked he.
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