’ Gerald grinned. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. There, in a little tea and sweetstuff shop, she bought and consumed slowly and absent-mindedly the insufficient nourishment that is natural to her sex on such occasions. “You are beautiful, Lucy. "Von't you hear me?—ough! ough!" demanded Sharples, after a pause. " "I am sorry. I am the richest man in England. Absolutely. ” He took them from her and read them. . “I’m going for a long tramp, auntie,” she said.
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