47, straightening her hat and waiting for her luggage to appear. He told her something about music, the great world outside. ‘And you come to me, thinking yourself half French, and expect me to take you in. A stack of chimneys, on the house above them, had yielded to the storm, and descended in a shower of bricks and stones. You didn’t see me fall into a swoon when you cursed just now, did you?’ ‘I’m beginning to doubt if anything less than a sledgehammer would send you into a swoon,’ Gerald retorted.
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