He does not look the criminal. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. “And let’s have a look at you, Vee!” said Mr. ‘Jacques, where are you hurt?’ But as she asked the question, she saw the wound. If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda. When you send for me I shall come back.
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