"Spare me!" he groaned, looking upwards. Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again, maybe she wasn't. I killed him, Nigel. She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. Hastening to the church, he entered it by the very door near which his first crime had been committed. Lucy’s bright tones pursued her. Men usually do.
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