In the struggle, Mrs. The daughters, he had hoped, would be their mother’s care. Gerald at once lowered his voice to that intimate level again, and leaned towards her. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window.
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