She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs. He embraced her small body in his arms, kissing her forehead over and over. He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy. She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. Her evident terror and distress reinforced the tale he told. ” “The point to note is that fundamentally you don’t want particularly to do it. "If you doubt my word, woman," replied the carpenter's wife, coldly, "ask Mr.
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