"The end is the most beautiful in English literature. ’ She frowned suddenly. ‘What would you? The nuns they would not believe me, and so it was not possible for me to stay. 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. ‘Pitiful. "Buck up! While there's life there's hope.
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