‘Read that,’ and threw the telegram at me, so that it went into the tureen. To receive him here afterwards would be most repugnant to me. Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am. I can’t rest or work or settle down to anything while things are like this between you and me. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. In the mornings I find labour easy because I am going to see you. I’m not Gerald, remember. The doctor paced the room half a dozen times.
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