‘Oh, peste. " "There isn't an angel in heaven, Ruth, purer or sweeter than you are. He seemed so clean anyway, his fair 215 skin, his light brown hair, there almost seemed to be no point. Catching hold of his chin, he bent back the neck, while with his left hand he pulled out a clasp knife, which he opened with his teeth, and grasping Wild's head with his arm, notwithstanding his resistance, cut deeply into his throat. The whole affair interested him deeply.
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