They are things faint and slight in themselves, as physical facts, but they are like the detonator of a bomb: they let loose the explosive. These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again. “The one who used to live at Lyndmore. ‘Bête!’ Gerald caught her hand as she pulled it back to deliver another blow. I wanted to talk to you before when you first came to live here two years ago, but I never did. Hers were less noble, yet stately.
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