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The horror, the confusion, and the separation of the murderer from his comrades were all over before I came. There remained only on the barrack-square the blood of man calling from the ground. The hot sun had dried it to a dusky goldbeater-skin film, cracked lozenge-wise by the heat; and as the wind rose, each lozenge, rising a little, curled up at the edges as if it were a dumb tongue. |
This is from “Love o’ Women” in Many Inventions, a tale of a hansome philanderer who throws away his chance of happiness. It is prefaced by an account of a murder in the barracks, a crime of passion. |
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