As soon, however, as the last solemn rites were over, and the remains of the unfortunate woman committed to their final resting-place in Willesden churchyard, his firmness completely deserted him, and he sank beneath the weight of his affliction. Melusine shrieked an imprecation, and ran the length of the aisle, searching for the weapon she had thrown. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. As Wood obeyed, his foot slipped; and, casting his eyes upon the floor, he perceived it splashed in several places with blood. “You’re burning up.
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