These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again. " "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. “Turn me. She drew a chair to the window and stared at the splendour of the tropical night. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. ” “Don’t let there be any more. I never hunt the human tiger without being armed. From suburbs, from country towns—everywhere.
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