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’ ‘Are we to infer that he had a choice?’ enquired Gerald. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. It doesn’t matter. “Tell him that he is mad. "Weep on, reprobate," cried the carpenter, a little softened. . Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street.
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