" "Then you are hurt," cried the carpenter in alarm. Instinct had forced her to create something out of rags to satisfy a mysterious craving. Could she hold him and manage the reins? If only Gerald had not gone. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate.
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