Even the abstract paintings on the wall were gray. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. He sent me flowers. "No von," replied the Jew. ‘Do please continue,’ Gerald begged, deceptively docile. But perhaps if people didn’t like clear, bright, healthy eyes—which is biologically understandable—they couldn’t like precious stones.
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