“Oh, that. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. You've got me interested and curious. ’ ‘What for?’ asked Gerald, half laughing, as he put his hand in his pocket and brought out his elegant pistol. Shouldn't you be getting home?\" \"It's not far. Make no promises on a night where I have burdened you with such awful knowledge. Down there, whisky raises the very devil with white men. Sheppard, so that if the blow had been stricken she must have received it.
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