‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. Just now the waterchestnuts…. ’ ‘Why should Gérard care?’ sneered Gosse. After the usual laconic greetings, he drew him on one side. The second look told me I was wrong. Soon, they fattened up, their cheeks rosy and their hair shining. The executioner shook his head. F.
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