Surely he was imagining this picture. ‘You speak as if you expected to meet her again, Gerald. It’s not you—not a bit. " "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued. It is no good going into that. He became primitive, literal in his conception; the ramifications were, for the nonce, fairly relegated to limbo. Most of the time, he was hunting and he returned at night.
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