“Often,” he repeated, a little heavily. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. So let me assure you now that we are not accusing you of a crime. ” “Who will?” “The police! The families of the people I’ve killed! I’m guilty!” “How old do I have to be?” “I beg your pardon?” “To be of use to you.
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