” “Certainly,” Mrs. "I have killed you," cried Jack, endeavouring to staunch the effusion of blood from her breast. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well. “Well,” she said, “good-night, father. "Hell's curses!" muttered Jonathan between his teeth; "that fool will ruin all. In fiction you make the Chinese secretive, criminal, and terrible—or comic.
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