His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. Anything else that was said she now regarded only as an aspect of or diversion from that. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. He was in the house with his mother. The first stroke appeared to arouse all the vindictive passions of Jonathan. ‘She wants you.
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