His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. Anyhow, they didn’t run about so much. His lips parted in a rare smile. On Saturday he went to that there Mr Charvill’s house. ‘What is this fate?’ ‘Un mariage of no distinction. Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. At once there came an answering knock.
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