‘For that I shall certainly not leave until you have told me every tiny detail. A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. ‘I said you were sympathique,’ she told him. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. The likeness was ridiculous. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled.
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