Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. For aught I know, they may be in the neighbourhood at this moment. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. I—I hurt myself. To lose was death, quickly and mercilessly delivered. . It might prove rewarding. "You will make me the happiest of mankind," cried the woollen-draper, falling on his knees, and seizing her hand, which he devoured with kisses.
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