He walked hastily to the side of the broad pavement and summoned a fiacre. ‘Only perhaps I can more readily do so if you will put down that pistol. “Why don’t you wear your white blouse more often? It is the prettiest shirt you own. 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.
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