It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. Manning would on no account do, though he was tall and dark and handsome and kind, and thirty-five and adequately prosperous, and all that a husband should be. Sheila decided to do a little laundry one day, clothes that were in Lucy’s hamper, a dirty clothes bin that Lucy had insisted that she have for herself separate from the family one. After all, why should I care what strangers think?" Ruth asked with sudden heat. "'T is he!" he mentally ejaculated. At least I rather hoped I might spend my time chasing smugglers, which would have afforded some excitement. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible. ‘Gabbling and muttering in a foreign tongue, that’s what I heard, sir,’ had declared the gap-toothed ancient, when he told them of the initial foray he had made, sneaking around the house in the dark. 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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