A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. ‘While you are making me this interrogation, my poor Jacques bleeds to death. Only that you will hurry and help Jacques. The longing to talk to someone! But in the end she had gone to her room without giving in to the craving. “Don’t lie to everyone, Lucy! You know it’s the truth!” Michelle defended herself.
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