That ring manifestly occupied her thoughts a great deal. But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse. From me. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. ‘No sense in snooping about down here,’ Gerald whispered. ‘At least I couldn’t say for sure. “What on earth did you expect me to do, then?” he asked. She kept her eyes closed.
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