"I'm almost afraid to state it," faltered the other; "but, may I ask whether Mr. " The Wastrel laughed. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. ‘Come, come, ma’am,’ he said smiling. F. ” “I am not sure whether I feel inclined to scold or thank you,” she declared. .
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