The blue jowl, the fat-lidded eyes—now merry, now alert, now tungsten hard—the bullet head, the pudgy fingers and the square-toed shoes were all in conformation with the doctor's olden mental picture. She could tell it was new territory for him and he might lose the nerve to take them off himself, without the aid of drink. The Disguise 261 VI. “Quite right,” she said. In truth, she liked Gerald also.
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