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. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. Every now and then she fingered an ornament, moved a piece of furniture, or rearranged some draperies. Sorry I’m a bit late the first evening. “You will not object,” he said, glancing towards her, “to accepting a deposit. ’ The dagger was in her hand. . " CHAPTER XXV. “No lecturing, Anna!” she exclaimed.
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