The affair passed at one leap from a spree to a nightmare of violence and disgust. She bound a scarf tightly round the place where the blood seemed to be coming from. It was there in the breast pocket, stiff and legal looking. "He is dying?" whispered Ruth. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. ?” she asked.
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