You can’t go. And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. That is why you came here, isn’t it?’ ‘Alors, now we know who is the spy, Monsieur Gérard. He pulled down a chair to her left. They had not so far been of much personal interest to Gerald, but tonight was different. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out.
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