He shrugged and, to Gerald’s relief, made to leave at last. Mother? Suzanne Valade, her mother? With deliberation, he spoke. So, bloody but unbeaten, weak and spent but undaunted, he waited for the Wastrel to spring up. But give me till to-morrow—only till to-morrow—I may be able to part with him then. He was normal now, and the coat was only a coat. . What are you to do with a mad mother at a time when you need all your wits to take care of yourself?" "Don't concern yourself further about me," returned Jack.
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