E. For five minutes he has been trying to think of something to say. “I murdered them, John. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. Oh, you cannot escape from it. But did Gerald trouble himself about her? No. I don’t! Please enlighten me. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. “Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed. "At a place we call the Dark House at Queenhithe," answered Jonathan, "a sort of under-ground tavern or night-cellar, close to the river-side, and frequented by the crew of the Dutch skipper, to whose care he's to be committed.
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