Wood scarcely knew where he was. You know that I am practically destitute, without means or any certain knowledge of where my next meal is coming from. Catching hold of his chin, he bent back the neck, while with his left hand he pulled out a clasp knife, which he opened with his teeth, and grasping Wild's head with his arm, notwithstanding his resistance, cut deeply into his throat. Women and men had always flocked to him, covetous of his knowledge, his riches, and if all else failed, his carnal expertise. “You see, dear, one IS passionately anxious for something—what is it? One wants to be CLEAN.
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