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. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. I must practise what I preach. And Gosse had been still there, so Martha said, and not in prison. Cheveney was another Paris friend, was he?” she asked.
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