CHAPTER VIII. “It really seems as if we shall have to put down marigolds altogether next year,” Aunt Molly repeated three times, “and do away with marguerites. She recognized him as the man who had blundered into the wrong room. His looks were fixed on his old benefactor. For on reaching the second floor, a swishing sound came to Gerald’s ears, as of someone moving about. We'll get this chap on his feet if only to learn what the trouble is. She drew his penis out of the strange little vent in his boxer shorts. ‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald.
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