He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. Wood, "it may be poisoned. You see, the trouble is that the matter is in dispute. ‘You do not know how I am like my mother. Without preamble, in a voice of extreme exasperation, he demanded, ‘Now what the devil’s to do? What in God’s name do you mean by sending Gerald such a ridiculous letter? Never read anything half as crazy. ” She laughed heartily, and became as suddenly grave.
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