She attacked me with a carving-knife, and, when I had disarmed her, the jade bit off a couple of fingers from my left hand. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs. Perhaps it was the recollection of those happy days. “You see, Vee,” said Mrs.
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