’ ‘You should be happy that you are not dead,’ she retorted, but with a diminution of the venom and fright in her voice. ’ ‘It’s too late for that,’ Gerald told her evenly. She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting. "Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment.
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