" "Too proud, eh?" rejoined the prize-fighter. In truth, Sheila never saw Lucy murder anyone at all, she only saw the blood. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. "Oh! that was all, was it?" said the turnkey, quietly reseating himself. I sit back now, letting life slip by and musing upon it; and I find my loneliness sweet.
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