‘While you are making me this interrogation, my poor Jacques bleeds to death. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. ’ ‘In one little minute,’ she said, snapping her fingers, ‘it is over and voilà tout. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand.
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