“And aren’t there fees to pay at the Imperial College?” her aunt was saying—a disagreeable question. He rested his brow on his hand and conveyed magnificent tragedy by his pose. She stared at him and thought the words, “My husband, my husband. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom. How you dress when you're loafing will be no concern of mine; but fresh twill or Shantung, when you dine with me, collar and tie.
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