The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. She fell into a deep delirium, whispering hoarsely to her dead mother, cursing God in Heaven, cursing her doctor, cursing herself as apparitions of devils and demons pulled at her with yellow ochre hands. The blow had brought him back to the realm of sober thought. Jonathan kept his keen eye fixed upon him, as he addressed himself for a moment to the Hollander.
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