A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY. Enjoy. " "Won't one from me do as well?" interposed Mrs. "I'm quite at your disposal. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. ‘That’s better,’ said Gerald, and let her go. I was always told my mother died the day I was born.
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