‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. "It won't do to betray the officer," he muttered. I must have something in hand. Here and there, patches of flesh adhered to the bones, and the dank dripping hair hanging about what had once been the face, gave it a ghastly appearance. Youth finds it pleasant sometimes to be melancholy. There was no marriage, and I hated, oh, how I hated the man.
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