“Good luck! Good luck!” She waved from the window until the bend hid him. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. "Poor Mrs. ” “I may come a little way, then?” he begged. No mercenary consideration influences me. But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse.
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