" Mr. Instead, they appeared to be at the hygienic level of tramps’ lodging-houses. He had been ill; no matter about that: he recollected every thought that had led up to it and every act that had consummated the deed. 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. ‘You were his daughter. She was pleased and a little flattered by his interest and sympathy.
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