‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. ‘But I don’t trust you an inch. She nursed at his neck as he peacefully slumbered through being killed. This she would not endure. “To begin with, I was—I was in the divorce court. She heard the sounds of Rhea scuttling about, and then feeding, brutally. " "Surely, you haven't stolen it?" "Stolen's an awkward word. Trifle useful?" he added, slipping a few gold pieces into Jack's hand.
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