’ ‘Comment? How will it serve you to kill me?’ ‘I do not need to kill you. He had an air of having told her a deep, personal secret. ‘You’re speaking the truth. But you must come this way now. “My mom is making duck. Sometimes I think you would have been much better off if you had been born in death-worshipping Egypt instead of in the Fourteenth Century. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. “You will not object,” he said, glancing towards her, “to accepting a deposit. I shall not let you go till I am quite sure. Her cheeks were the colour of chalk, her eyes were filled with terror. It was precious for two reasons: it was the photograph of her beautiful mother whom she could not remember, and it would identify her to the aunt in Hartford.
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