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‘Come, cry a truce. "I've waited supper, you perceive. ‘Aha,’ grunted Gerald with satisfaction, squinting up at the two open shutters on the second floor. There’s no sense in morality, I suppose, unless you are fundamentally immoral. They conversed, or more or less she interviewed him. And Gerald— Melusine swallowed on an unaccountable lump in her throat. "Ruth?" "Hoddy!" she cried.
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