In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. Yet either the rest or the wine seemed already to have done him good. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. She opened this and scrambled out—a thing she had not done for five long years of adolescence— upon the leaded space above the built-out bath-room on the first floor. "How long shall I be here?" he asked. ’ ‘She is no longer a mystery,’ Gerald said.
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