Gerald doubted there would be many eager suitors, even assuming the comtesse was keen to marry off her daughter to a foreign protestant. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin. ” She implored him. " "There you are, just as I said. I was grateful. Sheppard, shuddering violently.
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