It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman. ’ ‘So Charvill did tell him,’ Gerald said, once more staring into the hole in the wall. He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. CHAPTER XIX. Let me lend you some money.
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