97 “For what, kiddo?” Larry turned his head slightly to one side. ‘But how did she meet such a person in a convent?’ ‘He was wounded and came there for sanctuary,’ Gerald explained, adding almost through his teeth. She held out her arms to him and smiled. You are an artist by the Divine right of birth, but whatever form of expression may come to you at some time it will not be painting. “You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. The infant’s body, now missing its pulverized head, was still twitching among the blood-soaked ruins of corpses.
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