If you know her for the vicious, scheming wretch that she is, why in God’s name—?’ ‘She’s not a vicious, scheming wretch,’ Gerald said calmly. Wood; but they never come now. Martin’s parents looked at each other in embarrassed, silent communication. The unpleasant oily chill of fever overtook her body, and she watched in horror as Sebastian carried her to his bed on his shoulder like a sack of flour. “It is a great art,” she said in broken English.
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