What she had termed illuminative now appeared to be only another phase of the mystery which enveloped the child. "I have killed you," cried Jack, endeavouring to staunch the effusion of blood from her breast. The plank hung over his head. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding. There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side.
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