’ ‘That wasn’t my fault. Oh dear!—oh dear! Be careful of him," she added to her husband, "and get it over quickly, or never expect to see me again. " So saying, he re-entered the house, closed the door, and, followed by the widow, proceeded to the fire-place, where a handful of chips, apparently just lighted, crackled within the rusty grate. But now Ann Veronica knew what was the matter with her. She remained for some seconds crouching at the fender, poker in hand. Only she sent me a message, and together we found a cottage for her to stay at. \"Uh-oh. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains.
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