‘She won’t confide in you? Now, why?’ ‘Because that scoundrel Leonardo drummed it into her head that no man was to be trusted,’ Gerald announced viciously. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. God bless you, Auntie! I'll go into the mills and make pulp with my bare hands, if you want me to. “I have been very selfish,” she declared.
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