’ Gerald noted the mixture of respect and apprehension in the glance he received from the boy. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself. Papillon would have broken him down; anything tender would have sapped his will; and like as not he would have left the stool and rushed into the night.
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