The poor old imbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever he had seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of her gifts. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. She pocketed the sum total of his ready cash, about fortyeight dollars. ‘How the deuce did she get out without me seeing her?’ ‘Took advantage of the distraction, cunning little devil,’ Gerald snapped, racing down the corridor. That night a grave was dug in Willesden churchyard, next to that in which Mrs. .
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