She had very frizzy hair indeed, very black eyebrows, a profusion of metallic adornments about her neck and waist, and an engaging smile. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. She had other boyfriends and hung out at Foster’s only bar most of the time. It is you who took my name, not I yours. ‘Do not say such things, you—you imbecile.
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