No, none at all. She had eaten them, murdered them routinely, and yet he loved her still. A quick flush stained her cheeks. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. pglaf. Some part of the stiff vigour of the man seemed to have subsided. Poor little one. I haven’t, anyhow. He is an awfully good sort— and now he has come to me to help him if I can.
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