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’ Relaxing back, Gerald folded his arms. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes. Anyhow, it were me as got you down to the wetnurse. ' Why," said Ruth, "you did not read that to us. Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt. " And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. The business of serving gave Gerald a few moment’s grace, for he was dubious about the effect on an elderly female, not in the best of health, of raking up old memories.
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