Let your father—if he chooses, leave all his wealth to his adopted son. Tom swore he hadn't set eyes on him since the trial. In the grate were some charred fragments of a marriage certificate. “You could tell me but you’d have to kill me?” He asked with a sardonic grin on his face. ‘Don’t want it to break out bleeding again. It’s got to be at last like tobacco-ash over all my sayings and doings.
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