" "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. . He embraced her small body in his arms, kissing her forehead over and over. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. It is repulsive. She shot a sudden glance at him. Gerald’s judgement was borne out a moment later.
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