’ Gerald drew his breath in sharply as Lord Charvill took a step towards his granddaughter, thrusting out his head. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. And imprinting a kiss upon his mother's cold lips, he left the room. Her naked body was an abomination of caked filth and sagging tubes for breasts. “I could not have stayed in Paris and waited for news.
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