’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. ” “With you!” “And as for your people?” “They don’t count. “Very well,” said Manning. They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own. She had eaten them, murdered them routinely, and yet he loved her still.
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