’ ‘Oh, have you?’ grunted Gerald, surprising in himself a surge of some odd emotion at these words. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. "Come! I see the storm has blown over," cried Winifred, brightening up. But he might have crept along the left side of the pier, and beneath the further arch; whereas, Wood, as we have seen, took his course upon the right. ’ Her face fell.
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