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‘How could you possibly know it?’ ‘I know it,’ Lucilla told him frostily, ‘because Dorothée told me that Madame Valade went off with Gerald positively purring in her ear—which is a thing he never does—and came back with him looking like the cat after cream. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. I did not lay any traps for her. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. He was a man tout à fait capable, this Gerald. like, well, um, you’re kind of looking just a little bit homely lately. She would rend him limb from limb like a fiend if only she could move. Rhea went down, screeching and clawing at the air for the sword, which clanked heavily on the ground. ‘You wish to die?’ ‘Not in the least. He died when I was.
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