Supper was over. ‘I can manage now. ‘Why do you think I want a man ready to run to me with every move she makes?’ countered Gerald. Feeling rather exhausted, it occurred to him that possibly some provisions might have been left by the constable; and, looking about, he perceived a pitcher of water and a small brown loaf on the floor. The life with which he had endued these sheets of paper began to beckon imperiously.
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