"Curse him!" muttered Abraham. She had never let off a pistol in her life. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. I'm sure he'll do his best to content you. She repeated phrases of Mrs. Mac's. It was a hoax, it was the only thing possible, until she heard Cathy say, “Let me hold those for you. Wood could stand it no longer. Her bald head had swollen on her shoulders, puffy with fresh blood that ringed her mouth. Altogether, it was a hideous and revolting sight.
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