Oh, I grew fond of you as the years went by. What is it? Good God!” An unhappy little smile parted her lips. ‘I said you were sympathique,’ she told him. ’ ‘And I love the way you call me imbecile,’ finished Gerald. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue.
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