Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. Sulphurous poisons assaulted her nostrils as she threw the stone to one side of its resting place. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. Wood, sinking into a chair, and fanning herself violently,—"what a fluster you have put me into with your violence, to be sure! And at the very time, too, when you know I'm expecting a visit from Mr.
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