A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. He could scarcely blame her. ’ ‘But what have I done?’ protested Gerald innocently. At Anna’s words she seemed suddenly to stiffen. Through this confusion the carpenter struggled on;—now ascending, now descending the different mountains of rubbish that beset his path, at the imminent peril of his life and limbs, until he arrived in Fleet Street. “I heard nothing,” he declared, “and my ears are good. Finger to his lips, Gerald pointed in the direction of the noise. ” He stopped abruptly. Beethoven; he’s the best of them. Day after day she pounded him with curses, saying that her mother looked down on him from Heaven and sent a curse, to which he laughed.
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