\"I'm not hungry either, I'm still worked up from that game. “I do mean that,” she declared. “I know. “Bless you, sweetheart. At last, a little way to the northward of Euston Road, the moral cloud seemed to lift, the moral atmosphere to change; clean blinds appeared in the windows, clean doorsteps before the doors, a different appeal in the neatly placed cards bearing the word ————————————— | APARTMENTS ————————————— | in the clear bright windows. Have you been away from Morningside Park?” “I’m not interrupting you?” “You are. But I mustn't think of these things, or I shall grow mad. She was making it up. If you know her for the vicious, scheming wretch that she is, why in God’s name—?’ ‘She’s not a vicious, scheming wretch,’ Gerald said calmly. All men are bloody fucking hypocrites.
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