In the midst of the holy place, which he had formerly profaned, lay the body of his unfortunate mother, and he could not help looking upon her untimely end as the retributive vengeance of Heaven for the crime he had committed. “Ann Veronica,” he said, “I tell you this is love. He mumbled an apology and then stopped short. My wife—killed me. She had something of the feeling a Hindoo must experience who has been into surroundings or touched something that offends his caste. She liked to cook even though normal food was not nourishing to her.
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