"Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred. "Shoot him! shoot him! Put him out of hish mishery," cried the Jew. She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. But I'm sure it's important. I want to love him. He took some Oreos from the bottomless supply that stocked the cookie jar.
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