As he stood upon the bridge, he held down the light, and looked into the profound abyss. It’s these damned novels. That’s the fact of the matter. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. Mr. The colouring was green and white, with softly shaded electric lights, an alcove bedstead, which was a miracle of daintiness, white furniture, and a long low dressing-table littered all over with a multitude of daintily fashioned toilet appliances. But Gerald wouldn’t hear of it. The man or woman who did something for nothing always excited his suspicions; they were playing some kind of a game. No matter how swiftly he pursued this riddle, he could not bring it to a halt.
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