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. He did like her, anyhow; he was always pleased to be with her. He stood back, smiling with an air of proprietorship, and looking about him at the business-like equipment of the room. ’ He made a pretence of rising and making a sortie to the corner to see if anyone was there.
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