"'Sdeath!" cried Hogarth, aside to the poet. Her lips were apart, but no breath seemed to issue from them; and, but for a slight—very slight palpitation of the bosom, the vital principle might be supposed to be extinct. ‘Quick, Gérard. They stood back together and stared at it. They slow danced to a Bon Jovi ballad. But she wished she could put the thing she had done in some way to them so that it would not hurt them so much as the truth would certainly do.
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