‘There was a priest, the father confessor, you understand. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. He carried her in his arms up the steps, like a bride on her honeymoon. ’ ‘What for?’ asked Gerald, half laughing, as he put his hand in his pocket and brought out his elegant pistol. “You cannot give me ultimatums. It’s Providence. But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him. .
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