She reminded him of his linnet, when he gave the bird the freedom of the house: it became filled with a wild gaiety which bordered on madness. Not that there had ever been any hope of that. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. Never in this world! Let the hotel people take care of him; it's their affair. It arises, I think, from an over developed sense of humour. No! That was impossible. The fellow Kimble, to whom Gerald was indebted, was gaping. ‘If you shoot me,’ Gerald said quickly, throwing out a hand, ‘I shan’t be able to rescue you.
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