All she had found was the love of this dog. She recalled that day of the typhoon and the sloop crashing on the outer reefs. The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. She plucked at the knots of her racket and heard him to the end, then spoke in a restrained undertone. ‘Truth is, it’s Gerald who’s put me in the devil’s own temper, ma’am. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head.
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