" "'The avenger of blood himself shall slay the murderer'," said Wood, who was culling for himself certain texts from the scriptures. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. They slow danced to a Bon Jovi ballad. Yet her aunt, with a ringed hand flitting to her lips and a puzzled, worried look in her eyes, deaf to all this riot of warmth and flitting desire, was playing Patience—playing Patience, as if Dionysius and her curate had died together. " "Risk, or no risk, I shall go," replied Jack. " "Fear nothing. But where in the world was the girl? A door led to another chamber beyond. Anna made things for her.
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