Though within the last two days he had committed several heinous offences, and one of a darker dye than any with which the reader has been made acquainted, his breast was not yet so callous as to be wholly insensible to the stings of conscience. The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not. Gray and tranquil world! Amazing, passionless world! A world in which days without meaning, days in which “we don’t want things to happen” followed days without meaning—until the last thing happened, the ultimate, unavoidable, coarse, “disagreeable. But first, we’ve got to secure the convent. 148 “Sure. Cursing under his breath, Gerald moved swiftly across and dragged her away. ” He intoned.
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