‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. If my Mom found out, she’d kill me. The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated. Anyhow, they didn’t run about so much. She could hardly speak to me; she insisted relentlessly upon a separation. Capes was rather a discovery.
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