‘You are, I think, a gentleman, no?’ Gerald bowed. It did not seem quite fair. She felt that for a time at any rate her depressing struggle against continual failure was at an end. But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite. She was alarmed at how little her husband Gianfrancesco packed for the trip, leaving behind his best scarlet and black lucco, which he wore for every business and political meeting.
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