Her bald head had swollen on her shoulders, puffy with fresh blood that ringed her mouth. . I was—I was a corespondent. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. The tension was palpable. . This unexpected interpolation might spoil the efficacy of all that had gone before.
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