Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful. ’ ‘Oh, don’t you?’ Gerald said grimly. Painting is only one slender branch of the great tree. The temperature soared to one hundred degrees, sickeningly hot. “Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment. “My wife refused absolutely to have anything more to do with me. “It’s the spring,” he said.
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