It is Thérèse. "Aw, piffle!" he said, half aloud and rather disgustedly, as he stepped out into the sunshine. But, holy smoke!—the Yale spirit in…. stare. "What do you mean by that, sirrah?" cried Wood, reddening with anger. ’ ‘It’s too late for that,’ Gerald told her evenly. His eyebrows arched, knotting in the middle. A man might be without relatives, but certainly he would not be without friends, that is to say, without letters. Something unpardonable is laid to my charge. ’ He sat up.
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