“The fool I have been!” he cried; and now speech was coming to him. ‘This is not love, Marthe. ” Their agreement so far seemed remarkable, and yet as a home-coming the thing was a little lacking in warmth. She screamed as she saw that their throats had been ripped out and their dead eyes bulged with horror as their heads lolled from mere strings of sinew and flesh. For some time he could not stir, but felt sick and exhausted. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites.
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