E. It was about—a question of what I might do or might not do. She fidgeted and looked away. "It's a miserable weakness to be afraid of bloodshed. "Don't scourge me," she cried, trying to hide herself in the farthest corner of the cell. She thought of the smiles she would gather when she brought forth his first grandson. I would have twice the problems that I have currently. And then scratched it out and wrote instead, “Gérard”. His father and mother are gone now. She had braved all obstacles to pursue her dream. We LIKED each other well enough.
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