“I mean it. 7. She drew in a deep breath of the sweet mountain air. 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. He seemed to possess infinite reserves of patience when she refused him or purposely tried to bait and anger him, but his patience only made him seem more sinister. There’s no logic in these things. . ” Lucy commented as the mud was smoothed around the grave site.
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