I’m not Gerald, remember. She wanted to live. ‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. Earles would permit. “I shall probably want you to come down to the ‘Unusual’ to-morrow morning,” he said. —'How so?' says I.
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