“Who the hell are you, Lucy?” “Promise me you will never tell anyone. "Do you realize that you are several kinds of a damned scoundrel?" he began. They blinded me. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent.
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