“You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. ‘I can’t think how I’ve tolerated myself all these years. You have never known what it is to want food, raiment, shelter. Which are you—Valade or Charvill? Or, no, let me guess. It is a lovely little appendage to the mother who smiles over it, and it does things quaintly like her, gestures with her very gestures. ’ ‘Very much so,’ Gerald said, matching her tone, and at once forced the discussion back to his own point of interest by adding, ‘I was particularly struck by those poor Valades.
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