You are your nephew's executioner, or he is yours. Her head swam. I had already won wars and sailed ships to distant lands by the time I was thirty. Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. Then they would leave and she would go back to being alone. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound.
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