’ ‘Hadn’t the wit, you mean. "Stir a foot, at your peril. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. He would raise her up once again, ply her with silks and jewels again, all of the accoutrements of the new generation: the cars, the toys, the restaurants, and the prestige. Gerald liked her enormously. 155 The ringing doorbell jarred her from her stupor.
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