He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. ‘You would read my mind?’ Gerald was pretty certain he already had, but he did not say so. He roused curiosities. " "Are you a nurse?" "Yes. One doesn’t want to lose a grain. “Shit!” John quickly countered, “What are you going to do? She’s a motor-mouth, Lucy, of the worst kind. One would say she could try to —to prevent that her daughter will go to the convent. Besides, you cannot visit people armed with a pistol in London, you know.
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