It was easy to imagine great power in such a man. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. All right! I’m off. "Do you hear me?" cried the lady, with increasing vehemence. Some days, his eyes were green. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot.
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