John exited quickly from the side of the stage and returned to where his mother and father sat. 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. I have never told you so, or Sydney, but I can sing—rather well. “If you wish,” he said, “I will go there in the morning and see what can be done for him. “Won’t you have some more tea, Mr.
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