Gerald exchanged a puzzled glance with his friend. She felt like a dried-up old woman. "It was the story of a man, so to speak, who had left his vitals in his native land and wandered strange paths emptily. "Come home directly, Sir. And I, I am happy to say, am in the delightful position of being in the know. Or was that perhaps because his business in Piccadilly the other day had gone awry? Perhaps Brewis Charvill had not welcomed him with open arms. Battle, murder, and sudden death—and an old chap like McClintock tuning his piano in the midst of it. I will no longer be a burthen to those upon whom I have no claim, but compassion. Do you think that I shall ever make an actress, my friend?” “I doubt it,” he answered bluntly. The Ragged Edge.
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