You're a queer lad. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. Sheppard, faintly. Don’t you think? Tum, tay, tum, tay. Mrs. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. Oh, Jack! repent, while it is yet time, of your evil conduct.
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