“Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. ” An awkward moment of silence followed. The overnight nervous strain began to tell; she became inattentive to the work before her, and it did not get on. ’ ‘And I love the way you call me imbecile,’ finished Gerald.
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