Not that it would make any difference if he was alive still. The veins in his throat and forehead swelled and blackened; his eyes protruded from their sockets, and stared wildly; a thick damp gathered on his brow: and blood gushed from his mouth, nostrils, and ears. They were really very fine and abundant, with a blaze of perennial sunflowers behind them. “Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. It was an impulse. In this hour its colossal selfishness never occurred to him. Her soul was full of the sense of disaster.
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