” She stopped. "What's the use of wasting a shot?" rejoined Jonathan, savagely. “My dear Anna,” he answered. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. ” Again on his way homeward from Cavendish Square he abandoned the direct route to pass by the door of Anna’s flat.
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