‘Fiddle, Gerald. Do you know, Annabel, that you are my wife. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. Perceiving he was about to take leave, Kneebone ventured to ask whom he had had the honour of addressing. The doctor reached over and laid his hand upon Spurlock's heart.
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