Books were always sliding and slipping, clumsy objects to hold. Gerald stood quite still for a moment or two, listening intently. But I must—I ought—” “I MUST talk about this. She tossed her head, and, having no further words, moved toward the door. Master Thames Ditton, I'll do your biddin'; and you, Misther Quilt Arnold, may do your worst, I defy you.
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