All men are bloody fucking hypocrites. I'll eat them when we start. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. His face was wreathed in smiles, his beringed hand was cordially outstretched. The pistol was lowered slightly. Then he sat down and filled his pipe slowly and thoughtfully. S. Thames returned no answer. Charity for the ragtag and the bobtail of the Seven Seas, and none for his own flesh and blood. “I forbid it!” she said firmly.
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