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. Don't suppose," she added, with a scornful glance at her helpmate, "that I would pay him the compliment of thinking he could possibly be the father of such a boy as you. ” Ennison at once seated himself. They crossed the street, and entering the front door passed up the outside stone steps of the flat. But that possibility had been anticipated.
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