” “Coarse?” said Capes, “We’re not coarse. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. Oh, I think I understand, Annabel. "Help!—murder!—thieves!" screamed Mrs. ’ ‘Poor little devil,’ said Gerald, genuinely sorry for her. Wood in their favour. He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy.
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