"Where is he?" asked Jonathan. He took her there on the cold, dirty floor, his nails digging into her back, his teeth sinking into her breasts. Notwithstanding her emaciation, her features still retained something of a pleasing expression, and might have been termed beautiful, had it not been for that repulsive freshness of lip denoting the habitual dram-drinker; a freshness in her case rendered the more shocking from the almost livid hue of the rest of her complexion. That would be an unkind twist of fate.
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