’ ‘Yes, I’m sorry about that,’ Gerald uttered in a rueful tone. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. To-night all this may seem hard and cruel. I’m a Socialist, Miss Stanley. Brother and Sister VIII. And there's your liver. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. E. Wood; but they never come now.
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