I wonder what men would say if we threw the mask aside—if we really told them what WE thought of them, really showed them what WE were. ’ Mrs Prudence Sindlesham, a widow of several years’ standing, so she told Gerald, was a scarecrow of a female, long and lank of limb in a figure that had once been willowy. ’ Gerald raised his brows. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. If I surprised her, if I saw her alone, I might make her understand. It was impulsive and natural. Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child: and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily. Anything. .
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