“And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. She dropped on her knees by his side, and gently unbuttoned his waistcoat. " "The pianist?" "Yes. "Come away!" he cried, with the roar of a demon.
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