” They hesitated. "I have some difficulty in preventing myself from becoming your executioner. He grew even harder. My late husband, I mean. " "You'd better send him," jeered the turnkey. His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane. In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought.
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