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When in the plenitude of his power, he commenced a terrible trade, till then unknown—namely, a traffic in human blood. ‘Her own,’ Gerald replied. The sunshine was brilliant, the air mild. He rose slowly and extended it. ” “What’s our lot?” asked her sister. ‘But you will not be in a convent. Get on with it, then. You would suffer the torments of the damned for what you had done.
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