She did not want to go to the doctor's people; however kindly that might be, they would be only curious strangers. His pale and boyish waist was nearly as slim as her own. “Well, you have thought it over?” he said, sitting down beside her. His voice now had lost its ironies. There is the election——” He laughed derisively. This time she was indeed beaten. At this moment, Blueskin appeared with the lamp, and revealed a horrible spectacle,—the floor deluged with blood,—various articles of furniture upset,—papers scattered about,—the murdered man's cloak, trampled upon, and smeared with gore,—his hat, crushed and similarly stained,—his sword,—the ensanguined cloth,—with several other ghastly evidences of the slaughterous deed. It is one of God’s laws that a woman may defend her honour, even with the shedding of blood. I mean that it doesn’t interest you in itself.
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