" "That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering. She laughed a little bitterly. He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. His high brow was what caused all the ladies in town to covet him, it radiated intelligence but also something more primal. I’ve had the rarest luck and fallen on my feet. He had brought the shrubs down from Syria, and, strangely enough, they had prospered. There it was—to be borrowed. This formality irked her: she wanted to play a little, romp. He is already married. Courtlaw.
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