“If one was free,” she said, “one could go to him. I learned the trick of the place from one Paul Groves, who used to live here, and who contrived the machine. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. And I’m off to America, and if my steamer goes to the bottom of the Atlantic I’ll thank the Lord for it. But I sent him the longest way about. I found a blue stone on the beach once. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her.
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