“I think that I know very well what I am saying,” she answered. And when you reflect how much at heart your poor mother, whose loss we must ever deplore, had our union, you will, I am persuaded, no longer refuse me. She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas. Now he lay there, a doubled-up mass, with ugly distorted features, and a dark wet stain dripping slowly on to the carpet. Too many. Wood started to his feet. And now, come and sit by me, my dear, and let's have a little quiet chat together. If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it.
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