It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. ‘What is this fate?’ ‘Un mariage of no distinction. "There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. She said you HAD some money.
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