You’re a piss-poor liar, John. “I will tell you when to stop. “It is like old times,” she said, “to hear these home truths. She could now see to read; so she stirred the manuscript about until she came upon the first page. I’m six hundred and forty-eight years old, John! I should have never seduced a young boy, let alone expected him to keep my secrets for me. But if I painted her as I'd like to, the natives would instantly distrust me; and I'd have to build up confidence all over again. There were too many kills, too many unsolved files in too many cabinets. It began as a joke. Nor, he would wager, had the heroic Monsieur Valade, who had rescued her from that life and brought her to England, taught her in that short time all that Gerald was certain she knew of men.
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