A swift frown brought the still dark brows together for a moment. Love, obliterated, annihilated; out of his heart and out of his Bible. ‘What?’ ‘Nothing,’ snapped Roding, with an odd look at his bride to be that Gerald could not interpret. He's neighbourly; he has a jingle for every ache and joy I've had. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered.
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