Mr. An unhappy little sigh escaped her. “What have you done to yourself?” he muttered. He called it "The Man Who Could Not Go Home. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. The business of serving gave Gerald a few moment’s grace, for he was dubious about the effect on an elderly female, not in the best of health, of raking up old memories.
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