She comprehends what we're about. I find you were excessively brave, mon pauvre. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. Peste, where was her handkerchief? She remembered then that it had been lost in the struggle with Gerald. And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures. "I have killed her," cried Jack.
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