’ Gerald stood back, and watched her cross the room to the closed French doors. I must take you to the Suffrage people, and the Tolstoyans, and the Fabians. She was standing before a window, against the background of the rain-burdened April sky. “Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. I’d ruin the things if I so much as touched one.
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