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Her voice was weak and flat. “I think that you were inquiring for Mr. Cursing under his breath, Gerald moved swiftly across and dragged her away. I want to but I cannot! Please accept that!” She yelled. Cursed him for his devotion that had made him come back for her, only to get himself shot by the fiendish Gosse. " And, as if to make the moral more obvious, a dirty pack of cards was scattered, underneath, upon the sawdust. Never mind, I’ve got plenty.
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