His energy began to slip away and she sank her teeth into his fat carotid artery below the piano wire, which had drawn blood from his neck. That added to his puzzle. It was the end, she told herself, fiercely. If you'd read your husband's dying speech, you'd know that he laid his death at Jonathan's door,—and with reason too, as I can testify. Ramage,” she said, “I can’t—Not now.
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