He drove to his apartment, a second floor studio he 120 was renting above a bakery. "Women must have their wills while they live, since they can make none when they die," observed Wood, as he imprinted a kiss of reconciliation on the plump hand of his consort;—a sentiment to the correctness of which the party chiefly interested graciously vouchsafed her assent. "You mustn't talk any more; the excitement isn't good for you. The unfortunate woman was stretched upon the floor, with a bloody knife in her hand.
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