Beside me on Anna’s table was a pistol. 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. “To tell you the truth, it has seemed just lately as though we were becoming in some measure estranged. "Go!" said Lady Trafford; "it is my last request. “You may not leave. “It makes me feel,” he said, “that nothing is impossible—to have you here beside me. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair.
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