Explore "A Broken Blossom, Vol. 2 of 3" by Florence Marryat on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I am quite unable to remember what I said, or did, in the first shock of meeting him again. His presence in St. Pucelle was so utterly sudden and unexpected to me, that I should not have felt greater surprise if my dead mother had stood before me; and I do not think that, for the first few minutes, I at all believed or realised that I was face to face with the man who had embittered so large a portion of my life.
I suppose I said something, and held out my hand to him, because he seized it eagerly, and appeared delighted at the recognition.