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. As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. ‘Take this. She did not know herself. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil. Wood and the waterman, meanwhile, proceeded in the direction of St.
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