Abruptly, Gerald turned. She met him by the dugout after the game. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. “I hope you have not come for that. You’d think he wanted to meet the wretch again. Her hair had begun to grow back, it now swept to her shoulders. Were it not for your voice, I don't think I should know you. But the lady was not so easily won; and though she did not absolutely reject him, gave him very slight hopes. But God did not put you next door.
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