For heaven’s sake, give him some Madeira or something, Gerald! Anything to calm him down. In any case, there was no doing anything on a Sunday and Brewis Charvill, his main quarry, had gone out of town unexpectedly. It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. I wrote three letters yesterday and tore them up.
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