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"Silence!" thumped Patricia. "I have seen it," corrected Etwald, with professional calmness, "the poor fellow is dead, major--dead from blood-poisoning." "You are cruel, cruel, John Moore, and I hate you worse than I ever did before, if that is possible. I'm hungry, hungry to death, and now you've spoiled it all! Go away before I wet this nice crisp bread and jam with tears, and turn it into a pulp I'll have to eat with a spoon. You don't know what it is to want something sweet so bad you are willing to steal it—from yourself!" I fairly blazed my eyes down into his, and moved as far away from him as the table would let me..
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Conrad
He bent down to replace the bedclothes which the sick man had thrown off, and as he did so, a faint perfume, sickly and rich, struck his nostrils. It seemed to come from the bandages at the back of the head, and on bending down for a closer inspection, Jen saw that one of these--it was the merest corner which peeped out--was of finer linen than the rest. The fabric was cambric, and with a start which made the blood turn to ice in his veins, Jen realized that it was a woman's handkerchief--its delicacy and border-embroideries assured him of this. "I declare, if it isn't half-past ten!" she exclaimed, as she snapped the blue enameled lid of her little watch. "My little girl ought to have been in bed an hour ago." "I am sure of it, and what's more," added Jen, nodding, "it is my opinion that he knows who killed Maurice, if indeed he did not do it himself." "How much," squeaked the leader, more shrilly than ever, "did Bruce Haydon bribe the Board to let you in?".
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