He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. " "How long have I been in bed?" "A week. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. We were properly married, and the certificate is at my lawyer’s. It developed into a sort of secret and private bad manners. She tried to appear as if she had never been questioned before.
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