He had informed her that to leave him would be a choice to live a life of meager subsistence. “I know nothing whatever of his friends or his home. But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. I always fall on my feet, you know. “You yourself have decided that—apart from the question of Annabel.
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