She saw Lucy darkening her doorstep and stood from the recliner. “The doctor has asked me to give them my reasons—for shooting myself. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. Her white shirt was ridiculously utilitarian, but fitted in all the right places, he smirked. "Yes, my angel, to her—rest her soul! She extorted it from me, and bound me by a solemn oath to fulfil it. "Won't you sit down?" "I beg your pardon! Come into the consultation office"; and the doctor led the way. White is psychologically gifted. She looked at her for a moment fixedly.
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