‘Gérard—’ ‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion. Sometimes I take innocent lives. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. It was supposed he was drowned in crossing the river, as his body had never been found. Ruth took hers in the sea, but was careful never to go beyond her depth because of the sharks. “I should like to understand you,” he said. Figg! In a few minutes, all will be over. “Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window. .
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