‘Laisse-moi. Gerald sighed. A child—as innocent as a child! Nothing about life; bemused by the fairy stories you writers call novels! I don't know what you have done; I don't care. Loose the wherry, and stand to your oars—quick—quick!" These commands were promptly obeyed. All that he had sown that afternoon with such infinite care was as nothing compared to this seed, cast without forethought. ‘And I am thinking now that you may be very suitable.
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