The infant’s body, now missing its pulverized head, was still twitching among the blood-soaked ruins of corpses. Hurrying on, his progress was soon checked by a strong door, several inches in thickness, and nearly as wide as the passage. This man was her husband in the eyes of both God and man. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. "Here are some letters, which will let you see what a snake you've cherished in your bosom, you uxorious old dotard," said Blueskin, tossing a packet of papers to Wood, as he followed his leader.
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