F. " Himself. Catching hold of his chin, he bent back the neck, while with his left hand he pulled out a clasp knife, which he opened with his teeth, and grasping Wild's head with his arm, notwithstanding his resistance, cut deeply into his throat. “I’d never have a day of peace again, John. "His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. ‘As for your dagger—’ She held out her hand palm up, as if she expected him to give her the weapon. There’s the internal factor as well as the external. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters.
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