He hated the taste of it. “He wants me to have dinner at his parent’s house tonight,” still looking at a series of spots on the carpeting. From the freshness of the stains, which grew more frequent as they approached the adjoining chamber, it was evident some violence had been recently perpetrated, and the carpenter's own blood froze within his veins as he thought, with a thrill of horror, that, perhaps on this very spot, not many minutes before his arrival, his adopted son might have been inhumanly butchered. " "Ha!" ejaculated Trenchard. She moved her elbow nearer to him and spoke in a still lower tone. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her.
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