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’ Gerald tutted. I’m not a bit afraid of anything—scandal, difficulty, struggle. Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict. Get on with it, then. Good night. Take my child to—it is—oh God!—I am sinking—take it—take it!" "Where?" shouted Wood. They blinded me. The struggle was brief, and Gerald stepped aside, the pistol in his possession, while the girl Melusine stood trembling and glaring.
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