But, let's see the prisoner. ‘Indeed?’ Gerald grinned. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. So strongly was he impressed with this idea, that grasping the iron bar with both hands, he dashed it furiously against the door, making the passage echo with the blows. Oh, I’ve loved love, dear! I’ve loved love and you, and the glory of you; and the great time is over, and I have to go carefully and bear children, and—take care of my hair—and when I am done with that I shall be an old woman.
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