Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection. But days had now passed. As she came close, he took a pace forward and seized her from behind, one strong arm clamping her tight against his chest, the free hand seizing her about the mouth, stifling the cry that gurgled in her throat. "It's a miserable weakness to be afraid of bloodshed. She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards. ‘No.
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