And yet that could not be: it was a confession only in the event of his death. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. Let her see if she could manage this one, perhaps turn all to suit herself? ‘What do you think to do with me now?’ The captain lowered the pistol. Not that there had ever been any hope of that. , you know, fair and square.
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