"Ay, murder him, if you like the term," returned Wild. ’ ‘Why should Gérard care?’ sneered Gosse. At first she could not tell what it was; but as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she recognized the old coat. "I give you all of my genius, and you say—'Get out!' I am some kind of a dog. Wild," observed the knight, contemptuously.
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