The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. Did you know you’re very maternal? Damn, you’re more maternal than my Mom. I want to know—just as much as I can. Jacques, Jacques!’ His face was white, but his eyes were open, if a trifle glazed. ‘Don’t concern yourself,’ Gerald said calmly. "Mother!" cried Jack, springing towards her.
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