"I'm tired of the life I'm leading. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. You seemed, he thought, to have some grievance which you would not explain and which he thought must arise from a misunderstanding. I told him I would bring him to the gallows, and I was as good as my word. She refused coffee, though she knew that anyhow she was doomed to a sleepless night. It never seems to enter their heads to try and amuse their menkind. Pull over there. But she did not talk readily, and in order to say something she plunged a little, and felt she plunged. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. ‘Maybe not,’ Gerald conceded, ‘but I’m damned if I herald my approach with a lot of unnecessary blundering about in the dark.
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