All human food tasted equally dead and loathsome to her, whether it was prime steak or cheap hamburger. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. Having read the three first verses of the impressive service appointed for the burial of the dead, he returned to the church, whither the coffin was carried through the south-western door, and placed in the centre of the aisle—Mr. Opening the door, he found it littered with straw, on which he threw himself, and instantly fell asleep. Sure, I lose one occasionally—if he stays in New York.
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