The young man had knocked over the siphon. “You cannot! Oh, you cannot. I’m not mad that he has eyes for you instead of me, not mad at all. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. \" He said. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved.
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