Both arm-chairs had been moved a little so as to face each other on either side of the fender, and in the circular glow of the green-shaded lamp there lay, conspicuously waiting, a thick bundle of blue and white papers tied with pink tape. ‘Ah, no,’ Gerald uttered at once, lowering his voice and infusing it with all the promise he could command. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me, even I knew anything, which I don’t. There was no such a thing as perfection in a mixed world.
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