Below was an uninspiring street, a thoroughfare of boarding-houses and apartments. That really settles about that. What right had she to call herself “Alcide”? It was abominable, an imposture. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously.
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