The policeman raised his voice, slightly agitated. We are not animals. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. “One is always playing the surgeon, one kills always the thing one loves best. If we were to wait till a prig was rightfully nabbed, we might tarry till doomsday. Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child: and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily. "You two … both of you! But for you I couldn't have done it. ‘All this gadding about.
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