‘Sindlesham? But Gerald has gone out of town to visit that very person. While he was thus standing, the flames of his house, which made the whole street as light as day, and ruddily illumined the faces of the mob below, betrayed him to them, and he was speedily driven from his position by a shower of stones and other missiles. She was surprised to find how stored her mind was with impressions and memories of him, how vividly she remembered his gestures and little things that he had said. ’ She turned and swept away from him, pacing the length of the room to the window Gerald had unshuttered. The elusive Jane tapped her on the shoulder after class. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill.
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