Her eyes travelled about the room as if in appeal to the very chairs. The kissing of the book struck her as particularly odd, and then the policemen gave their evidence in staccato jerks and stereotyped phrases. I am the cause of his ill-usage. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh.
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