Stanley. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. Very intelligent, by the looks of the books she was carrying. ‘Aha,’ grunted Gerald with satisfaction, squinting up at the two open shutters on the second floor. He drew her to him with his hands upon her waist. No, I thank you. He was no Hoddy, but a tremendous man, with hairy arms and bearded face and drink-shattered intellect.
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