He did not write this with lead but with his heart's blood. The latch had not fully caught. Water sprung from the corners of the school roof, turning it into a gigantic fountain. ’ He had abandoned the “sir”, Gerald noted, realising that the footman’s respect for him had dropped sharply. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Martha begged. I've my own reasons for disliking this job. Surely it was a dream.
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