It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. ‘That—that—why do you speak of him?’ ‘Because I feel you ought to know,’ Gerald said calmly, but rising and watching her closely, ‘that all your trouble may be in vain. Lucy followed. He talked very little and rather absently. Supper was quickly served; the oldest bottle of wine was brought from the cellar; the strongest barrel of ale was tapped; but not one of the party could eat or drink—their hearts were too full. 104 < 14 > THE UNTIMELY DEMISE OF JOSEPH R.
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