‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. He stood back, smiling with an air of proprietorship, and looking about him at the business-like equipment of the room. They got to go home and eat Campbell’s Chicken Soup. I’ve bored you or something. Mrs. Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. “What do you think of that?” he asked.
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