For a moment or two Gerald stood in the total silence of amazement, his pistol up and pointing, aware that Hilary was likewise stunned, standing with halfdrawn sword. " "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. The room behind was another small antechamber, presumably linking the back rooms. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. That register would be easy to get at; comforting thought. Martin said “Hi” to her in the halls every day now, a sure sign of trouble.
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