The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. “I won’t pretend,” he said, “that this is an accident. "Hear me, Jack!" shrieked his mother. “In a sense—yes. She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. And when you reflect how much at heart your poor mother, whose loss we must ever deplore, had our union, you will, I am persuaded, no longer refuse me.
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