CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. ‘You do not understand, Gérard. “I am bored,” she said abruptly. She had adored the stupid thing, and kept it in her pocket for about ten years. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone. I have taken bullets and lived, and even a silver one wouldn’t do much.
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