The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. I should as soon think of trusting a woman. He glanced at it, and saw the bloodied blade. The smell that emanated from the opening was abominable. But that instinct is severely dampened most of the time. Strange, I shouldn't know him when he called on me. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. Our quarrel's quite over.
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