Suddenly she understood. "Will you write," asked the doctor, "and tell me how you are getting along?" "Oh, yes!" "The last advice I can give you is this: excite his imagination; get him started with his writing. “He tried it. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. ” She found it difficult to begin thinking, and indeed she was anything but clear what it was she had to think about. ’ ‘And I love the way you call me imbecile,’ finished Gerald. It was cheating, pitiful cheating.
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