“Mr. "And now, widow," continued the ruffian, setting down the candle, and applying his lips to the bottle neck as he flung his heavy frame upon a bench, "I've a piece o' good news for you. That was the true miracle of the gift; without actual experience, to imagine love and hate and greed and how they would react upon each other; and then, when these passions had served their temporary purpose, to cast them aside for new imaginings. That’s how it takes me. But she could tell by the dullness of his eyes that he saw only some inner vision. And Mrs. Your mother, for what it’s worth to you—for there’s nothing for you here, by God!—was the woman I chose for Nicholas. Gerald’s chest tightened.
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