Listen, Jack. She knew the significance: the red corpuscle was being burnt out by the fires of alcohol. ‘But, Gérard—’ ‘Don’t start arguing,’ he said in a tone that brooked no defiance. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. ‘Now then, Gerald, out with it. He carries with him something that will mark him anywhere—the girl.
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