“This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. She also knew that he was the type who would not make a single physical overture until she pushed the correct buttons. The key is in my trousers. 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. ” She patted his arm and wiped her tears away.
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