You go home and live on the G. ’ ‘Your husband?’ Gerald tutted. He was tall, nearly six feet, and from his stature it was clear that he spent some spare time working on his physique. Her head had been shaved, and around it was swathed a piece of rag, in which a few straws were stuck. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. She chuckled.
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