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. His voice now had lost its ironies. He returned to attend the funeral. At least for one moment, it was. He succeeded so well that they were almost in Montague Street before Anna stopped short. She drew her naked arms around herself. It would be very good to be Capes’ friend.
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