Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times. Even the abstract paintings on the wall were gray. I didn’t know. “You killed them, didn’t you?” He said. \"Yep. "Are you a poltroon, after all?" "That's it! I ought to have died that night!" "Or is there a taint of insanity in your family history? Alone and practically penniless like yourself! You weren't even stirred by gratitude.
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