Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. ” “You asked your father for a reason!” Miss Miniver repeated. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. ” 74 She hung up the phone.
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