’ It was the Press who forced the identity upon me. She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. ’ Gerald reached out and took her hand, enclosing it between both his own. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy.
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