She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. He saw now that it was merely a boy. She did not question or analyze the craving; she took the plunge joyously. Only a few weeks ago there was a bloody battle on the bridge there between the soldiery and the local police. What is it?" "Is there anything I can do?" The idiocy of the question filled him with the craving of laughter.
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