He pressed the bloody wrist into her mouth, and she though she could not feel it or 72 control it, she knew she was being made to swallow. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing. “My God!” he said again. The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast. As the secret door opened, the sounds within the house came at once to her ears: the tramping of feet above, and the hoarse voices echoing through the mansion.
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