Gerald smiled and excused himself with the Poussaint girl, whose mouth pinched together as she threw a dagger glance at the voluptuous Madame Valade. She had become unashamed of her nudity, altogether unfocused on her appearance. Though encumbered by his irons, his step was firm, and his demeanour dignified. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor.
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