To wait for hours and hours for the night! The sea empty for days! You forgot the monotony, the endless monotony, that bends you and breaks you and crushes you—you forgot that!" Her voice had steadily risen until it was charged with passionate anger. " "In whose favour is it made?" he inquired, sternly. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom.
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