Charity for the ragtag and the bobtail of the Seven Seas, and none for his own flesh and blood. He too, when she had disappeared, called a carriage. He was in a curious state of desperation. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. He’d borne mention of the woman’s name. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. "My invitation did not extend to them. Probably she mistook you; probably she thought you cared.
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