“Mr. "Is it a bargain?" "Take half of my estate—take all—my life, if you will—I am weary of it!" cried Trenchard passionately. She had agonized over it for weeks. She passed him silently as she dropped Michelle’s dried corpse into the open clay pit awkwardly, like a discarded doll. “Well, I don’t feel like standing it. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. I don’t know anyone. ’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace.
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