A sea voyage under sail will be the making of him. ’ Mrs Prudence Sindlesham, a widow of several years’ standing, so she told Gerald, was a scarecrow of a female, long and lank of limb in a figure that had once been willowy. ‘Hang it all, Mrs Sindlesham is right! You are two of a kind. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her. It could not be she who had done this. Here he was hotly pursued. ‘I went to see him because I thought he ought to know about you, having already been imposed upon by our friend Gosse. The man is a stranger to me. But think of the disillusionment! Except for our sex we have minds like men, desires like men.
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