’ ‘Lord, yes,’ agreed Gerald, in mock horror. “Serves you right if I’d cracked your skull. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. ‘If you care for me at all, shoot me. “These are the playgrounds of life.
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