That was the true miracle of the gift; without actual experience, to imagine love and hate and greed and how they would react upon each other; and then, when these passions had served their temporary purpose, to cast them aside for new imaginings. Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. Eventually her movements carried her to the little stand at the side of the bed. “Like a stab. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. After all, he had the means of setting this tormenting doubt at rest. ‘But you said—’ Gerald tutted. His assistance came too late. Maggot and Edgeworth Bess.
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