E. She dragged the broken bottle across her carotid artery, creating an inch-deep gash upon her throat. She loved for him to regale her with the stories of his past, the days of ancient Greece. It was as if her aesthetic sense had become inflamed. His face fell. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. The pistol was lowered slightly. “Dear husband,” she murmured. “Nigel, Nigel,” she cried. " "Jack's a noble fellow," exclaimed the head-jailer of Clerkenwell Prison, raising his glass; "and, though he played me a scurvy trick, I'll drink to his speedy deliverance. Oppositely, she wore her gym shirt oversized so that she could tuck it into the tight shorts, creating a mushroom effect that was de rigeur among the popular crowd who had invented it. She had noticed a twenty year pattern emerging, and funny how opportunity seemed to strike just when she was getting truly anxious. Glancing at each other, they rose from their seats and ventured to address the captain.
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