"How?" cried her brother, starting. Danger, in the form he apprehended, was lurking outside: nor was he destined to enjoy long repose. 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. He had died before they married, and when her brother became a widower she had come to his assistance and taken over much of the care of his youngest daughter. ’ ‘Because I like you, of course,’ Gerald said promptly.
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