” She said. We men are like children. Her features were meagre, and ghastly white, and had the fixed and horrible stamp of insanity. Also he had said—laughing in that way with his eyes which made a flutter in her chest— that Prudence will find an Englishman to marry her. He came along, he said, just to call, with large, loud apologies, radiantly kind and good. E. 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.
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