She had gone into Morgan's one afternoon for a bag of salt. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. ‘Moi, je vais vous tuer!’ ‘I don’t think so,’ Gerald said through his teeth. Mr. ” “You alarm me,” she murmured, smiling. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice.
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