D. But to go courting a slave-girl, at the risk of physical hurt! A shudder of distaste wrinkled her shoulders. “It was perhaps my fault. 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. ” She pressed her ear to the door. Her head swam.
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