If Gerald knew, what should stop Gosse from finding out? Perhaps he was even now at the lawyer. "I am Owen Wood, at your service. We'll lather him with mud, shave him with a rusty razor, and drench him with aqua pompaginis. ‘He arst me to find him someone who might go with you. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key.
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