’ Gerald turned and came back to her. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked.
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