CHAPTER XVIII. Things were thrown here and there, to be taken up, or again cast aside, as the whim arose; while the broken-backed chairs and crazy table bore the marks of many a conflict. The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him. Twelve years ago! It is an awful retrospect. She felt sickeningly empty. His obtuse hands punched and jabbed at her uselessly, then he throttled her neck with the last of his strength.
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