To be confronted with the girl’s damned Frenchman of a husband was another matter altogether. Her name was Rhea. ’ You mean you hope you do, thought Gerald cynically. We'll turn the tables upon 'em yet. Never! Perhaps some day, quite soon, she might regret that breakfast-room. Wily little devil she is. I dare not reflect upon the effect that her son's fate,—if the efforts to save him are ineffectual,—may have upon her enfeebled frame, and still worse upon her mind.
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