Occasionally he relit his pipe. He would pick a random member of the ever-shifting household for the sake of example. "Bury her in Willesden churchyard, as she requested, on Sunday," said Jack. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. A long chest under one of the windows was open, some of its contents dragged out and spilling onto the floor. She chastised herself for thinking of her husband and lord as being weak. Waving a white flag, naturally.
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