’ ‘Don’t be a little fool,’ Gerald snapped irritably. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. Sometimes her straying mind would become astonishingly active—embroidering bright and decorative things that she could say to Capes; sometimes it passed into a state of passive acquiescence, into a radiant, formless, golden joy. " "A white wall is a fool's paper, Jack,—remember that," rejoined Wood.
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