“Diedermayer’s a kiss-ass. “You knew it,” he added, in her momentary silence. All the events of the previous day rushed to his recollection; and though he had been unintentionally the cause of his mother's death, he reproached himself as severely as if he had been her actual murderer. ” Lucy looked at the small shelf which was jammed with thick paperbacks by every major horror novelist of the twentieth century. He listened to the thunder of the fall now mingling with the roar of the blast; and, driven almost frantic by what he heard and saw, he pushed with all his force against the stone. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. Ain't you, Jacky darling?" "Not quite, Poll," returned Mr.
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