His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. "However, some one must look after the jail; and they're all gone but me. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. ‘We?’ Gerald smiled. She stood face to face with him, and his voice cut across her speech and made her stop abruptly. ’ Gerald was relieved to hear the loud guffaw issuing from the old man’s lips.
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