’ ‘As if you could stop her. His commissions this day would not fill his metal pipe with one wad of tobacco. “Tut, tut!” he said. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley.
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