The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. "Whatever your intelligence may be I will strive to bear it. She glanced into his face. And then came the vile experience of being forced and borne along the street to the police-station. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. She was going to him soon and certainly, going to his strong, embracing arms. " So saying, he closed the lantern. ‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly. If you were ten years younger, you'd have me wondering.
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