It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her. “Are these ordinary sapphires?” she said. Gerald kicked the panelled wall in frustration. As sure as he is now living, I'll pay him a visit in the Old Bailey before morning. It was not human and yet very human, a high pitched wail of hunger that rattled her skull. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. "Maybe he realized that he was slipping fast and thought a fine action might give him a hand-hold on life again.
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