He was not quite sure whether, after all, he had been wise. Balanced on his nose were enormous tortoise-shell spectacles. You truly are your mother’s, Lucia. Perhaps Gerald was not as clothheaded as he had thought. At times he seemed to be claiming pity from her; at times he was threatening her with her check and exposure; at times he was boasting of his inflexible will, and how, in the end, he always got what he wanted. She wedged the towel between her legs. Perhaps in two or three weeks. Jonathan, however, was well acquainted with the road.
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