She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. “You haven’t come here to make a lot of difficulties?” she asked. " "Is the sloop ready to sail?" asked Wild, without noticing the skipper's remark. ’ A peal of delighted laughter greeted this threat. Wood in their favour.
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