1. G. " "And me," insinuated Mrs. Gerald lifted an eyebrow. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. . Go to her, I say, and take her in your arms, you poor benighted Ironsides! I can't make you see. ‘Not but what it was near that before Jarvis died. You should have more.
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