‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald. By and by he gathered enough courage to lean toward her. Ennison looked down on him in disgust. He became really companionable, discussed the new story he had in mind, and asked some questions about colour. Since the discovery of them, she had been madly eager to read these typewritten tales. His build was medium, he would never 5 tower over his peers, yet his shoulders were broadening, betrayed by an undeveloped set of pectoral muscles underneath his button-down shirt that she could tell frustrated him. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight.
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