" "My God!" cried Trenchard, stunned by the intelligence, "I have killed her. You are my wife now and you belong to me. Presently her aunt sighed deeply and looked at the clock. There will be no avoiding it. The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood.
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