A terrible spectacle was presented to the young man's gaze:—the floor deluged with blood—the mangled and lifeless body of Mrs. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. She trembled; but she did not know why. “I believe you are quite right so far as regards the present, at any rate,” someone remarked, from the depths of an easy chair. “He will find it difficult no doubt to alter his style of living,” she said. He had grabbed her in the stream, embracing her naked body tightly, running his hands over her breasts and clutching her buttocks.
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