D. It had, as it were, blown up at the concussion of his first step. Her heartbeat quickened. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. "But to drag this innocent child into the muck! With her head full of book nonsense—love stories and fairy stories! Have you any idea of the tragedy she is bound to stumble upon some day? I don't care about you. ‘I am not a murderer.
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