“It’s my fault. There, that sounds frightfully involved, doesn’t it, but perhaps you can make out what I mean. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. Gerald began to ease forward, deciding just how he would accost her. He stood up and she ushered him out of the small room. Slowly and ruefully she realized why marriage was so idealized among her generations of those before her.
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