Balanced on his nose were enormous tortoise-shell spectacles. My boys buy them with beads or bolts of calico of mine. ’ ‘I would have done, only you threatened to blow off my head,’ Gerald reminded her, laughing. “Eight, Cavendish Square. Do you know this, Sir?" he added, taking a key from his pocket. He was angry. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. His eyes were fixed upon her face, but he opened his lips twice before he spoke. Gerald watched her perambulations in silence, his heart wrung. She wanted to be on with the show. Still unconscious of anything he did physically. Wood fared still worse.
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