’ ‘What name would you like, then?’ Her shadowed features turned in his direction. I hope I may never come near her. 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. "Give me till to-morrow," implored she, "and if I can bring myself to part with him, you shall have him without another word.
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