’ ‘Poor little devil,’ said Gerald, genuinely sorry for her. But she no longer obsessed over heresy, no longer did she feel cursed by God. The floor was strewn with screws, nails, fragments of wood and stone, and across the passage lay the heavy iron fillet. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. Let me bind you up, and then you can attend to her. He might go on as the devoted lover until he tired.
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