He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. The stain was blood, but this was a stain that resulted from being up one’s elbows in blood! She smiled a nurse’s knowing smile. Seeing the footman about to follow her in, Gerald clamped a hand onto his shoulder. "What has put it into your head that your son yet lives?" he asked. “Begin violence, and the woman goes under. One day it was gone. I am not going to be a chorus girl, or even a super. The miserable woman staggered, uttered a deep groan, and fell senseless on the straw.
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