It was the size of my palm. “Perhaps,” he said, “I have been to blame. “Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed. He never said hello, as if it had become a personal taboo for him. Here and there, patches of flesh adhered to the bones, and the dank dripping hair hanging about what had once been the face, gave it a ghastly appearance. He gurgled as if trying to communicate. "Why did I want it under my pillow?" he asked. I've seen many cases like it. ‘It did not seem to me that it was so.
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