"However, some one must look after the jail; and they're all gone but me. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. The infant’s body, now missing its pulverized head, was still twitching among the blood-soaked ruins of corpses. The clever hostess having let fall that several distinguished guests from France would be present, the world had flocked to her doors to catch, like the gossip-hungry vultures they were, a glimpse of them.
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