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If I offered you half of my possessions, you'd doubtless wallop me on the jaw. ‘You don’t mean to say she’s here?’ ‘Was,’ Gerald corrected. The water was cold but she waded deeper. Ask your own conscience. His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. The Red Room.
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