Water sprung from the corners of the school roof, turning it into a gigantic fountain. He turned to Ruth and McClintock. His horse, which had apparently gone to sleep, preferred to remain where he was. Had he been sick in the mind when he had done this damnable thing? It did not seem possible, for he could recall clearly all he had said and done; there were no blank spaces to give him one straw of excuse. ’ The full story—or as much as Gerald knew—of Valade’s machinations shocked the old lady so much that she was obliged to recruit her strength with a refill from the Madeira decanter.
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