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*** Madame la Comtesse de St Erme regarded the English major with a lacklustre eye, Gerald thought. She covered herself with her arms. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. Every movable mirror had been placed here, to discourage vanity, and since no whitewash covered the brocaded purple wallpaper, its pervasive hue gave an added sense of heaviness to the crowded chamber. But she veiled her feelings. Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald.
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