’ Gerald was staring at her, an arrested expression on his face. With all your cunning, we're more than a match for you. He used to live in a boarding-house in Russell Square. Her lips were dry and cracked. ’ Mrs Prudence Sindlesham, a widow of several years’ standing, so she told Gerald, was a scarecrow of a female, long and lank of limb in a figure that had once been willowy. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn.
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