It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. . "What can it matter to you whether he returns or not, child," rejoined Mrs. Hill. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom. " Without waiting for a reply, but darting a malevolent look at the prisoner, he quitted the cell, the door of which was instantly double-locked and bolted. "Your son," answered the boy. ” “You said you loved me – did you mean it?” He said.
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