‘I beg your pardon?’ said Gerald. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being. I'll not speak of Jack or Jonathan.
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