They had not so far been of much personal interest to Gerald, but tonight was different. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. On Saturday he went to that there Mr Charvill’s house. “I cannot reason with you,” he said at last wearily. Gerald grinned. Boys were ordered to wear white buttondown shirts and pleated black trousers. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. He worried me to marry him.
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