“I don’t suppose you’ll be able to do it much,” said Ann Veronica. And shall their wretched offspring live to blight my hopes, and blast my fame? Never!" And, with these words, he grasped Wood by the throat, and, despite his resistance, dragged him to the very verge of the platform. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar.
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