Little by little, she stopped hating him. ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. I could not love you else. I will not trust you. After five or six years it would not be difficult to hide in Italy or in France. She disengaged her hands and stood up. She hunted the markets for bread and treats so they could feast during the day.
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