A small brickbat was thrown, which struck Jonathan in the face. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. Cathy stood in the bedroom hallway in her faded blue bathrobe. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom. I hated him. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled.
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