’ ‘Oh, do they?’ Gerald said, sudden wrath kindling. And the fences are down for good. But there's a person in the hall—a very odd sort of man—waiting to see him, who won't be sent away. Sometimes it seemed that she would never recover it. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. She had found it in 1988, the year of the stock market crash.
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