"Amazement!" cried Wild. “Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. The fellow Kimble, to whom Gerald was indebted, was gaping. “Fighting goes with loads of its own baggage, John. But as the students sat about Miss Garvice’s tea-pot and drank tea or smoked cigarettes, the talk got away from Capes. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. " "Don't say so," cried Mrs. ’ ‘Very true. . The plank hung over his head.
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