Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. ‘Thought you were going to break in here,’ he said, in an impatient whisper. ’ ‘I didn’t bring him,’ Gerald returned swiftly. She would ignore him. She moaned, having failed in her mission to find her mother and her God. . Disillusion stands in one doorway of our house and Mockery in the other. Let me have a word with him, and you may take all the money.
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