"Every inch of it," replied the woollen-draper. But that explains everything. His build was medium, he would never 5 tower over his peers, yet his shoulders were broadening, betrayed by an undeveloped set of pectoral muscles underneath his button-down shirt that she could tell frustrated him. She finished the olive and looked up. Having accomplished his intent, Gerald let the lad go and had himself driven back to Stratton Street.
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