It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. Sections and pages had been pasted together, and all through both Testaments a word had been blotted out. ’ He stared at the point, glanced at the fallen sword imprisoned by her foot, and only just looked back at her weapon in time to see it thrust at him again. My wife—killed me. ‘Obsessed, that’s what you are.
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