"But trifle with mo no longer. Then you will begin to see. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. ‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. "You've given him a broken head, I perceive. And mind he doesn't stir out of your sight, on any pretence whatever, till I call. She wondered wildly why she had stood up.
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