Rhea’s head exploded into a spray of blood, brain, and bone. There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford. White became conscious of a distinct sense of uneasiness, and showed it in her face.
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