"But are you really there?" "No, I'm here," answered Jack, leaping down. ’ Pierced to the heart by the poignancy of this utterance, Gerald could neither move nor speak. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. She glanced at the Frenchman, and found him struggling with the portrait that was embedded around his scalp. ‘You wish a life of obedience? So be it, Mademoiselle Charvill. “I wrote it for you.
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