It came into her head with real emotional force that this must be some particularly fantastic sort of dream. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. ’ ‘But it was not your fault,’ protested Gosse, shocked. “They have all been trying to turn my head. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. "If we take him, I don't mind giving you a share—say a fourth—provided you lend a helping hand. ” Lucy implored. “I see no reason why you shouldn’t. Gregory B.
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