‘While you are making me this interrogation, my poor Jacques bleeds to death. A slow anger burned in the man. In the pause she realized the attention of the others converged upon her, and that the tears were brimming over her eyes. Spurling and Marvel rose too. ‘That—that—why do you speak of him?’ ‘Because I feel you ought to know,’ Gerald said calmly, but rising and watching her closely, ‘that all your trouble may be in vain. He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty. He's a cutie.
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