’ She focused on Gerald’s face. “How is that carmine working?” he asked, with a forced interest. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. “No one has a better right than I to be with you. Now then," he added more calmly, "I am ready to die. ‘How did you know that Mary was his daughter?’ Gerald hesitated. It was a purse.
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