The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. In fact, Gerald had given order to the coachman to drive out of Golden Square and then stop around the corner. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. Eventually her movements carried her to the little stand at the side of the bed.
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