" "Thank God for that!" ejaculated Mrs. Cut to pieces —slashed—bloodied. In doing so, he had to clamber up the immense heap of bricks and rubbish which now littered the floor, amounting almost to a car-load, and reaching up nearly to the top of the chimney-piece. There’s no sense in morality, I suppose, unless you are fundamentally immoral. To Gerald’s eye, the refugees therefore presented a rather forlorn little group, almost huddling together and chattering in low tones in their own tongue. Monsieur could rely upon his special attention, and for the cooking—well, he had his customers, who came from their homes to him year after year.
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