” She was silent. His eyes were fixed upon the tablecloth. Wood," she continued, with a sudden change of tone, and convulsively clutching the carpenter's arm, "promise it me. His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles. He went over his interview with her again, their conversation at dinner-time. ’ She saw the weapon wrenched from Emile’s hand and he dropped to the bench of the pew and sat there, grasping helplessly at the welling blood on his arm. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair.
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