’ To Gerald’s relief, the entrance of the butler interrupted them, relieving him of the necessity to explain himself. I'm no mollycoddle. Perhaps Sir John is going to take the other one under his wing. “You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own. “Wasn’t Parliament to reassemble?” He put out his hand and leaned against a tree and crossed his legs. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. I arranged that he should.
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