The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. ‘And your schooling?’ he pursued. Mike seemed visibly happier at her remark. She lived, he noted, very carelessly. "Never mind," replied the tapstress. This was David Courtlaw, whose ways, too, had never been very different from the ways of other men as regards her sex. Oh, it is unbearable.
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