Why can’t you let it be?’ Gerald grinned at him. “I had a dream in the night,” she said. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. This woman, contrary to his custom, he answered. “Will you tell me what all this is about?” said Capes. And it has been well for you that he imagines the child was drowned. I just want him, and no one else will do.
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