Gerald saw her eyes change as she recognised him. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. "Nobody composes any more, nobody paints, nobody writes—I mean, on a par with what we've just heard. But he was wide awake. He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness. Presently her aunt sighed deeply and looked at the clock. "Was I out of my head?" "Yes.
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