She twanged the catgut under her fingers. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. The woollen-draper was no despicable trencherman in a general way; but his feats with the knife and fork were child's sport compared with those of Mr. E. But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse. ’ Gerald seized on this.
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