. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. Below the window he saw two coolies carrying a coffin, which presently they callously dumped into a yawning pit. But kill me rather than commit this outrage. There was little more here than a sideboard, a chest for the vestments, and a simple wooden chair. What he needed most in this hour was a bottle of American rye-whisky and a friendly American bar-keep to talk to. He was amused. I’ve had enough of it. Her bonnet dropped off and was trampled into the gutter.
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