"My child!" he groaned faintly. She mewed weakly, “Sebastian? What have you done? Where is Gianfrancesco? Did you kill him?” He crossed his arms. “Oh, damn!” he said. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. ‘And you, my girl, if you’d been born at all, would have been just what you think you are.
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