Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection. The truth was impossible, indecent. And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. “You are a thousand times more beautiful,” he said, “than anything else could be. I hated him. She would never again be lonely.
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