He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. Even the love of a mother does not sway him. ’ ‘And why are you not married,’ she demanded suddenly, ‘if it is that you have land?’ Gerald grimaced. It isn’t all. He stuck to the shop as long as it was necessary, and longer, in my opinion.
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