Why else?’ Gerald stared at her blankly. Someone bounded up the stairs, which groaned from the strain, unmistakably Mike. You won’t settle and I’m going mad. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. Gianfrancesco became agitated.
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