I hate children. ‘Only perhaps I can more readily do so if you will put down that pistol. I have had no one but for you. You’re dealing with me now, not Gerald. As the Wastrel played, Spurlock knew that the man saw the inevitable end—death by drink; saw the glory of the things he had thrown away, the past, once so full of promise. I hate myself!” She collapsed to the floor, sobbing. ’ Authority had won again, Gerald thought with satisfaction. “You are making your dress?” “Such as it is.
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