“We pretend bodies are ugly. I know not who you are; and, as I cannot discern your face, I may be doing you an injustice. The detective rapidly sketched the appearance of the room in his notebook, and picked up the pistol from under the table. "In Heaven's name! what's all this?" cried Wood. ” He coughed gently. "You are angry?" "Very. ‘Ain’t no call for you to go a-blaming of yourself. In a sense I don’t care.
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