But to confess about Gerald— no, a thousand times. His tie had demanded a struggle; he ought to have taken a clean one after his first failure. “Muck-headed moral ass! I ought to have done anything. The road which wound by Westbourne Green, gave him a full view of the hill of Hampstead with its church, its crest of houses, and its villas peeping from out the trees. Still, they bob up occasionally. If I had been your companion only, and not your master, I might very well have been content to accept you for what you seem. “You are afraid,” she said, “that the young man who thinks that he is my husband has upset me. Still no sound.
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