’ She pronounced the name with painstaking accuracy, Gerald noticed. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. " "You are an angel, I say," continued the poor maniac; "and my Jack would have been like you, if he had lived.
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