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"But what are you talking of?" broke in Jen, impetuously. "You say that my poor boy died from blood-poisoning. How else could he have come by that, save through being touched or struck with the devil-stick? No one in the neighborhood was likely to possess any weapon likely to corrupt the blood. If Maurice had been stabbed, or shot, or if his head had been smashed in, I could understand the crime--or rather the motive for the crime--better; but as it is, the person who stole the devil-stick must have killed him." "Because I love her!" "God forbid, sir!".
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Conrad
Jen drew back and stared at the young man in angry surprise. "She used to be," was Judith's frank reply. "But since you've become an artist, like Aunt Louise, she fairly adores you!" "By means of its odor?" Leaf II. A Love-Letter, Loaded..
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