His mind was filled briefly with psychic images of a charnel house that danced like a spider in his head. “I’ve brought you up some dinner, Vee,” she said. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions.
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