He began shoveling dirt over the bodies. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. He is steeped in the conventions. “I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. She attacked me with a carving-knife, and, when I had disarmed her, the jade bit off a couple of fingers from my left hand.
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