‘You have every right to be angry with me. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. She had eaten them, murdered them routinely, and yet he loved her still. “Holcroft,” he remarked, “in bald language, and with the usual limitations of his clouded intellect, has still given some slight expression to the consternation which I believe I may say is general amongst us.
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