What are you going to tell me?" "Nothing. The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue. ” “Surely,” he protested, “the change is all in favour of your own inclinations. Gerald watched its approach with vague interest, which quickened when he saw that it was drawing up outside the very house out of which he had just stepped. Everywhere else—the law, medicine, the Stock Exchange—prejudice bars us. Grace-church Street was entirely deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears; or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it. A queer nut. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. G. ‘Jacques, do not die while I am gone.
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