His glance came up again and met hers. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. The salt air was fresher than the stale air in the manor. “I was lonely. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian. John looked at his feet bashfully. But between us, we'll have him writing books some day. “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. ’ ‘Gérard,’ she said, giving the French version with a soft “g” and not quite managing the “l”. "It must look sharp then, or I shall give it the slip," laughed Ben: "the gale never yet blowed as could perwent my crossing the Thames. I've seen him often do it.
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