To-day he selected the girl, and gave her the lead-chair. Gerald frowned. The brain tires of resistance, and when it meets again and again, incoherently active, the same phrases, the same ideas that it has already slain, exposed and dissected and buried, it becomes less and less energetic to repeat the operation. Some days, his eyes were green. But you! Why the devil did you marry her? That's the thing that confounds me.
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