Books were always sliding and slipping, clumsy objects to hold. Papillon would have broken him down; anything tender would have sapped his will; and like as not he would have left the stool and rushed into the night. A vast indifference settled down upon him. ’ ‘How do you do?’ Gerald said pleasantly, stepping from the pillared portico and coming down the shallow stairway. Her head dipped deeply into the current, and she narrowly escaped being swamped. .
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