B. ‘Has this capitaine of yours not yet rid us of this Emile? What can he find to say to him?’ ‘Don’t be impatient,’ Gerald said, rising too and coming to draw her away from the door. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. There is so little abandon, so little real joyousness. The evenings were dulcet and soft. He breathed a little sigh of satisfaction. He sent a speculative glance at the immobile yellow face.
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