Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. “I wonder if I’ve been properly brought up. Gwen—I saw Gwen the other day, and the paint’s thicker than ever. When I carried you up here like a bride, that is the way I wanted us to be, Mary Lucia. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. To them all I am nothing. He stopped short with a little exclamation of surprise.
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