But, bloodan'-'ouns! man, if ould Nick himself were to hit me a blow, I'd be afther givin' him another. And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. Let me take the satchel, sir. Do you see why I have hidden the terrible things from you? I chose you because you are my perfect mate. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones.
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