Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. He would condemn her to the vengeance of the mob all for refusing to marry him. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. He drew an awed breath. It was finished by the end of that year, each character having asserted itself pronouncedly in my imagination. And now you are acting the cuckold, because I do not wish to waste my seed in your barren womb?\" She was too devastated to answer him.
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