Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. ‘And if he is dead I know not. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. ” “And what do you think I ought to do?” “Exactly!” He lifted a paper-weight and dabbed it gently down again. She had paid her bill, and she had enough left in her purse to pay many such. She shrank from him as he gripped her hand more forcibly.
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