E. Kind of knows it, too. I knew where I would go next: Florence. Her family are solid West End people, Kensington people. Without preamble, in a voice of extreme exasperation, he demanded, ‘Now what the devil’s to do? What in God’s name do you mean by sending Gerald such a ridiculous letter? Never read anything half as crazy. “My dear friend,” she laughed, “not so tragic, if you please.
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