"How long shall I be here?" he asked. ’ ‘Nonsense, it’ll give Pottiswick something genuine to complain about,’ said Gerald cheerfully, moving to the edge of the trees. With his arms bare, the neckband of his shirt tucked in, he laboured. They steal over to Copeley's at night and dispose of the pearl for cash. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account.
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