1. Next instant, Gerald felt his wrist seized in an iron grip. “Good luck! Good luck!” She waved from the window until the bend hid him. You see, the horse it does not belong to me, nor to the nuns. In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully. He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold.
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