Having seen every precaution taken to ensure his safe custody, he departed, muttering to himself, "I shall yet live to see him hanged—I shall live to see him hanged. "There won't be much left for you," he said. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it. Or perhaps my father once. “It does not appear to me,” he said, stiffly, “to be an affair for jests. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave.
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