"How!" exclaimed Sheppard. Shame and electricity coursed through her veins, flowing directly from him in a flash flood. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. “But Sir John?” he exclaimed. ‘So it was.
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