Earles regarded it approvingly. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. How long he sat there, reeling off this drivel, he never knew. "Help!—murder!—thieves!" screamed Mrs. His idea was to get behind this sustained listlessness. And my wife won’t live with me for reasons that I think most women would consider sound. He worked afternoons, when everybody else went to sleep; he worked at night under a heat-giving light, with insects buzzing and dropping about, with a blue haze of tobacco smoke that tried to get out and could not. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be his restrained and dignified friend.
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