” She wondered what to. Why can’t you let it be?’ Gerald grinned at him. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. “She is living there now,” she remarked. ‘And you mean this? Truly?’ ‘Entirely. But you must allow me to observe, my good Sir, that you're wholly in the wrong respecting my friend.
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