’ Taking the chair she had indicated with a careless wave of one stiff-fingered hand, Gerald felt hope burgeoning. The fanatic has no such word in his vocabulary. She was suddenly very aware of the room, the television still blaring, and the chill in the air. The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. “It is a hateful story. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle. Next to the executioner stood his wife—the former Mrs.
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