His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. Monroe would lock the whole group of us in the basement, every day. “I am lonely. ‘Ah, now I may see what damage Gérard has done to me,’ she muttered, crossing to the table and putting her hand to the sore place at her neck.
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