. " It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. She tolerated spitballs in her curly hair and had to buy a new backpack when hers was stolen. Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe. In this way (he informed Spurlock) he kept posted on what was going on in the strictly commercial world. She shrank from him as he gripped her hand more forcibly. Five minutes ago, his butler had entered the green saloon, an austere apartment, with dark forest-green wallpaper flocked with a swirling design, and heavy mahogany furniture.
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