“Listen,” she said. “Shut up, you little faggot. Your mind is still subtly sick. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. I won’t even ask. ’ To Gerald’s relief, the entrance of the butler interrupted them, relieving him of the necessity to explain himself.
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