He flung open the door and cast a quick glance round. “My dear boy,” she exclaimed. ” “Who will?” “The police! The families of the people I’ve killed! I’m guilty!” “How old do I have to be?” “I beg your pardon?” “To be of use to you. ‘While you are making me this interrogation, my poor Jacques bleeds to death. Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. And, when I have seen him pining away before my eyes, getting thinner and thinner every day, I have sometimes thought my prayers were heard.
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