Only it was with a further and most unbelieving shrug of the shoulders that he resumed his seat. Wood. He’s dead. He wasn't satisfied with an assured income from the paper-mills your grandfather left us. Gerald was conscious of that sliver of irritation again at mention of the name. Then he put the paper by. Earles?” he inquired. ’ ‘You mean imbecile, don’t you?’ Gerald said, and turned his head to share the joke with Melusine.
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