’ Gerald frowned. It was the first expression of the mother's blood. We are going to have this chap writing books one of these days. She never questioned the motives of the characters; she had neither the ability nor the conceit for that; but she could and often did correct his lapses in colour. . He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. It was not a long prayer. He was an imaginative young man. She had never been there before at that hour, in that light, and it seemed to her as if she came to it all for the first time.
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