” Michelle said. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. You may enjoy your pride, your arrogance—in a coffin. She brought the unconscious man down. . Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. . The ambitions of his life, and they were many, seemed to lie far away, broken up dreams in some outside world where the way was rough and the sky always grey. The miserable woman staggered, uttered a deep groan, and fell senseless on the straw. And, without another word, he seized the table with both hands, and upset it; scattering plates, dishes, bottles, jugs, and glasses far and wide. She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat.
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